


The Ugly Doll

by IcyAndTheFrostBites



Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: 1815 Russia, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- Nutcracker, Christmas present, Don't Have to Know Canon, It's okay to laugh, Katherine is Masha, Nightlight is the Nutcracker, North is Drosselmeier, Nutcracker!AU, Pitch is the Mouse King, Some violent scenes, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyAndTheFrostBites/pseuds/IcyAndTheFrostBites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Nutcracker and the Mouse King inspired AU.</p><p>One fateful Christmas Eve, Katherine receives a very unusual present that gives her exactly what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. IN WHICH KATHERINE IS GIVEN A MESSAGE

**Author's Note:**

> Author stuff: The idea for this came to me while I started rereading J. M. Berrie’s Peter Pan and one of the songs from The Nutcracker came on (“Chocolate,” actually). I was reminded of an old idea for another fandom that I never got around to writing, and out came this little thing.
> 
> This is mostly going to be based on the original tale by E. T. A. Hoffmann, Nußknacker und Mausekönig (The Nutcracker and the Mouse King), mixed with bits and pieces inspired by the 2008 Royal Theater production (for the relationship between Clara and the Nutcracker) and one of the Mariinsky Theater productions (for use of color), The Nutcracker in 3D — Nutcracker: The Untold Story in America — had a part in this, and finally the 1990 animated cartoon The Nutcracker Prince. (And probably the Barbie version, which I have on VHS. Yes, you read that right. VHS. I’m an old lady.) For those who have never read the original novella or seen the ballet, both are easily available through your favorite search engine.
> 
> An odd note: The Nutcracker was the first ballet I ever saw and was inspired to take dance lessons. Obviously, that never went anywhere, due to my stage fright.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Guardians of Childhood series or The Nutcracker.

Katherine Shalazar loved many things about winter, but she did not love the icy patches on the ground. Nor did she love the fact that she had the habit of finding them and sliding on them. She skidded across a particular large patch, her arms flailing pathetically as a pitiful cry escaped her lips. When she came to the end of it, she tipped backward and —

“Are you alright, Miss?”

She had been caught by a pair of rather firm arm. She peeped up at the young man, instantly recognizing him. He was the messenger boy for the postal company. He delivered messages sent via telegraph — a most peculiar and wonderful invention. She could not place his name, but his shaggy brown hair and clever brown eyes were as recognizable as her own. She gave him a polite smile and removed herself from his grasp.

“Quite fine, thank you,” she said, dusting off her skirt. She was awfully glad she wore a shorter one today. While it was cold out, her thick padded boots kept her ankles warm, and her skirts were high enough up that they were away from the sullied snow. “You did not have to stop and help me.”

“It’s fine,” he said, ruffling his hair with a gloved hand. “I was on the way to your uncle’s manor and, by luck, happened to spot you. It’s a message from a relative of his. It’s about the ball.”

She perked instantly.

“Do you know who?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss. I wasn’t around when it was taken down.”

“No worries,” she said, digging in her coin purse. She had a little extra to spend, her allowance, and this young man had been awfully kind. He deserved a nice tip for his troubles. She held out the largest piece she had. “Here.”

“It’s too much,” he said, eyeing the coin. He tried to give it back, but she refused.

“My Uncle would give you more. Besides, the money is mine to do with as I please, and you were kind enough to help me. Think of it as a token of Christmas spirit. I do believe you have a little sister who has been eyeing a pair of ice skates.”

He smiled widely and thanked her. She returned it with a thanks of her own and sent him on his way. She had a task to do, after all. She was not out and about on the town for no good reason or another. Her uncle sent her out to double check the order with Old William. So, she pocketed the telegram and continued on.

Old William is the shopkeeper of Santoff Claussen’s grocery store. He had many sons, all named William. There was Tall William, Not-as-Old William, Fat William, Short William, William of the Dark Hair, William the Intelligent, William the Almost Youngest, and William the Absolute Youngest. She was pretty sure there were four or five more Williams locked away somewhere. The descriptions were the only way to honestly tell them apart anymore. But all of them were good-natured men and boys who enjoyed her company.

The streets of Santoff Claussen were busy that morning. She nearly bumped into people carting around boxes of cheese and bread and hats and dresses. They all smiled and waved at her, not allowing their almost accidents to ruin the good mood.

“…been missing for a while now,” one of the women in town said — Mrs. Temny, the new schoolteacher.

“I wonder what the Emperor will do when his brother is finally found,” Mrs. Meier said, sighing. Mrs. Meier was the tinker’s wife. “That poor boy. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone trying to assassinate you all of the time.”

Katherine turned away and continued on, no longer wanting to hear the gossip that plagued the streets almost every day. She didn’t care for the Emperor — though he was better than his father, she would admit. His mother, her namesake and friend of her Uncle Ombric’s, was to thank for the change of pace. If only he could end the war with that Napoleon fellow…

She was greeted with such ferocity from the younger Williams — William the Intelligent, William the Almost Youngest, and William the Absolute Youngest. All three vied for her attention.

“‘tinka, look over here. Look at what I made!”

“No, no, Katinka, over here. See? I just shelved these jarred fruits. It looks like a rainbow, see?

“Katinka, I helped Papa with these bags of flour last night. See, I’ve got a bruise to prove it.”

She covered her mouth with a gloved hand to hide her smile. They were sweet boys, no older than five, six, and seven. Their poor Mama had so much work to do amongst this lot. Katherine patted their head and made her way to the counter. Tall William was working the register. He smiled brightly when he saw her. There were very few customers, so they did not have long to wait to talk to one another.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, before she folded her arms across the counter.

“Fine for the most part,” she said. “I slipped outside on my way here.”

“Are you hurt? Do you need a place to lie down?”

“I am fine, Will. No harm done. A little shaken, perhaps and weak in the knees still, but I have been through worse. Besides, that messenger boy caught me before I landed. He is very kind, that one. He also brought a message for my Uncle.”

“Who’s it from?”

“I did not check to see. He said it was from a relative, so that could be… all of Russia?”

He snorted. Her uncle, Ombric Shalazar, had a habit of collecting “relatives.” No one in his family is blood related to him, his last living family member dying as she and her parents were on their way to Santoff Claussen. There had been a blizzard and their carriage crashed. Only she and the carriage driver, who had gotten off with only a broken leg and a sprained wrist, had survived. She had been a bit bruised and battered, but otherwise she had been fine. But, that did not top the man from collecting others. There was his ex-apprentice, an elderly woman who everyone called Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola, the ballerina who danced for the largest Russia ballet company, the bookshop keeper named Mr. Qwerty who lived in town, several composers and authors, on top of many other ordinary people and such. Yes, Ombric Shalazar had a large family, all of who loved him dearly.

“Anyway,” Katherine said, shaking her head of all previous thoughts, “I need to check on the order. It’s… well, you know how large Uncle’s orders can be if there is to be a celebration.”

“Yes.” he said, smiling. “Father is getting the last bit of it delivered here this afternoon. We’ll drop it off early tomorrow morning before we open shop.”

“Alright. I will be sure to tell the cooks and maids, as well as my Uncle. It will be a relief.”

“Do you need me to walk you home?”

She hesitated for a moment. Did she want him to walk her home? A part of her said yes, while another part told her it would be improper in every way. She smiled and nodded — a little rebellion now and again was good for the soul, after all.

He grabbed his coat and held the door open for her.

“Hey,” William the Absolute Youngest said, “where are you going?”

“I am escorting Miss Shalazar home,” Tall William said. “Now get back to stocking before Father sees you three slacking off.”

Katherine snorted as the door closed, hearing their cries of dismay.

“You are so mean to them,” she said.

“We’re brothers. We’re _**meant** _ to torture one another. Now, my lady, let’s get you home and out of the cold.

True to his word, Tall William saw to it that he got her home. Albeit the fact they stopped several times to try seasonal pickles, check the shelves of Mr. Qwerty’s bookstore, and peek in the toy shop windows. Though the two of them were too old now to fully enjoy the grandeur of the toys in their fullest, they appreciated the sight nonetheless.

“Perhaps,” Katherine said as they rounded the gate to Sekjova Manor, “if those handsome fellows are still there tomorrow, I will pick them up. Your youngest brothers deserve some new toys.”

“What with Mama being pregnant again,” Tall William said, frowning down at the snow.

“Oh, another? I was sure this last William would be the last.”

“We had all hoped.”

“Maybe it will be a girl this time.”

“More than likely it will be another William.”

She patted his arm and smiled as sincerely as she could. He returned it sadly.

“You had best get inside,” he said. “You have an uncle who is awaiting news only you have.”

“I suppose you are correct,” she said, walking up the steps to the main door. A maid opened it for her and awaited her entrance. “We shall see one another soon?”

“Yes. We shall see one another soon. Good day, Miss Shalazar.”

She waved her farewell to him and sucked inside. She shed off her coat and fur muff, handing them to the maid. She slipped out of her snow covered boots and into her house shoes. She found a butler, who directed her to the upstairs solar. She knocked at the door and waited to be told to enter.

“Uncle?” she said, slipping in. “I am back.”

“Katherine?” he said from behind a pile of books. Perhaps she should send a few maids up here to organize everything. She found her way to him and stood obediently by his side. “Back so soon?”

“It is past tea time, Uncle.”

“Is it? I hardly noticed. Time flies much too quickly.”

“Tall William told me that the order will be delivered early tomorrow morning.”

“Wonderful!”

“Also, the messenger boy from the post office ran into me. He told me to give you this. It is a letter from a relative. Or so I have been told.”  
She held out the message to him. He took it and read it over several times. A smile spread across his face.

“It seems that apprentice of mine has invited himself again.”

“Oh!” Katherine said, clapping her hands together. “Nicholas is coming? Does it say when he will be here?”

“He says that he will try to make it for the ball.”

Katherine smiled and twirled around. She pecked her uncle on both cheeks, positively beaming.

“This will be the best Christmas ever!”


	2. IN WHICH THERE IS MUCH CELEBRATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine helps with the Christmas party and then enjoys the gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: This was originally the first chapter when I started writing. And it was written in the present tense. Which made the wording weird and formal. I also had to change some things that are talked about in the next chapter — mostly about North (who is referred to as Nicholas by Katherine, “that blasted boy” by Ombric and a Great-Great Grandaunt, and some other names by other people).
> 
> We’re still some chapters off from the exciting bits but to make up for it, there is food porn in this chapter. It’s based on Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners that I’ve had. (I could have added a scene with everyone eating but the descriptions should suffice.)
> 
> I combined this chapter with the next one shortly before I posted it. There wasn’t much happening in this chapter, and what was supposed to be the next chapter had a lot of fun stuff. So, the two were combined. And it made this one extra long. Enjoy.

The manor rose to a clamor the afternoon following the day they received the letter. There were many things that needed to be done — the tinsel needed to still be hung, candles needed lighting, the tree still needed topping, food still had to be prepared and quite a lot of it too, beds be made, guests to arrive, et cetera, et cetera… Yes, Sekjova Manor was in a clamor.

It was Christmas Eve, which was considered to be a _**very** _ important night. For it was the one night many things would happen, and it was the night special gifts for special children would be delivered while they slept. Yes, it was a _**very** _ important night.

For Katherine Shalazar it would be the night she would be united with her uncle’s apprentice, a man she considered to be her elder sibling — for she had none of her own blood. He always brought with him the most splendid gifts and the most splendid stories. Katherine preferred the stories to the gifts, but she never told him as such.

She spent most of her time prepping herself for the evening festivities — for that is what young ladies of this time should do and it would be considered quite inappropriate to go downstairs in her bedclothes. After her bathing, she redressed in half-dress — there were guests who arrived and needed to be greeted, though she long since has forgotten their names. And an hour or so before the party took off, she had to hurry back up to her rooms to get dressed in her evening attire.

The gown she wears is a simple one — a white thing with the appropriate length for her age and tied with a blue sash at her natural waist. It was all stitched together with the finest silver thread. Katherine was not fond of dresses, but she was told months ago what was expected of her as she was now of an age to be sent to finishing school — an event that will take place in the late summer of the subsequent year. She was to be the lady of Sekjova Manor, after all.

She donned a pair of fine glove that fit her hands comfortably and a crown of leaves, flowers, and twigs. The crown was a bit tight around her head and has to be tilted at an angle. Her stockings and undergarments were crisp, white, and clean. And her silver slippers _**just** _ poked out beneath the hem of her skirt.

She took the stairs down to the main floor, lifting up the lip of her skirt so as not to dirty it or tear the pretty hem off. She was ushered to the door the moment she reached the bottom. She, as well as other relatives and guests, stood shivering in front of the open door and listening to the carolers sing a lovely hymn. She could not place at the time being but knew it as fiercely as anyone else in attendance.

The carolers were thanked for the generosity and sent on their way with good well wishes and rock cakes, as well as some warm mulled wine. Katherine and the guests all made their way to decorated parlor. Many of the adults chatted amongst themselves, the children sparse, having been told to sit quietly and patiently until the meals are served. This was very difficult for children to do as they were, well, children at the time and it was seen as cruel and unusual punishment for something not yet done in their minds.

Female relatives, young and single, were called forth to sing and play on the pianoforte for everyone. One particular cousin who was not the best singer, and she had to have her father relieve her of her duties — much to the relief of everyone in attendance.

Katherine was called forth by her uncle to help her with some final preparations of some sort or another.

“Katherine,” her elderly uncle said, leading her away from their guests, “come with me. I am in need of your assistance.”

She nodded, without wondering, and followed. He led her to the parlor, and he slipped inside. The pretty but strong housekeeper named Seda eyed her as she, too, slipped through the doors. Seda does not say a word, however, she keeps watch for any nosy, peekers who wait to see the delights inside.

Katherine looked about in awe. The drawing room was very beautiful. There were fresh garlands strung along the borders of the walls and doors and along the mantle piece. The tree was gleaming in the firelight — the candles not yet lit. Oh, she could not wait to see them alight. The little ornaments were pretty and evenly spaced. Strings of popcorn and cranberries and tinsel took up the space not devoted to the ornaments. Yes, it was a lovely tree worthy of awe.

“You said you needed help?” Katherine said, noticing that her uncle has taken note of her gaping.

“Yes,” he said, holding up a carefully wrapped present. “Everyone will open one tonight. I need your help placing them under the tree. I am not as spry as I used to be and that blasted boy is not here yet.”

_Blasted boy?_ Oh, he was talking about her brother.

“But,” she said, “his letter said that he left his home days ago, how is he not here yet?”

“Nicholas has always been known to make an entrance.”

It was true. He had a nasty habit of getting everyone’s attention when he arrived. She hoped, for his sake, that he would forgo any such crazy shenanigans that year.

* * *

Placing the presents under the tree did not take long. In fact, it took a total of ten whole minutes from Katherine’s time of sitting in the parlor doing absolutely nothing — something she was grateful for. And, instead of returning to the room with all of the guests, she was sent to the kitchens to see how the dinner is progressing.

“Roasted goose with cranberry sauce,” the head cook said. He nodded to each thing he listed off. “Honey glazed ham with pineapple and cherries. Twice baked potatoes with cheese and black bacon. Sweet creamed corn. Steamed green beans in butter sauce and almonds. Candied sweet potatoes. Freshly baked bread rolls. Hard cheeses. And spiced wines, imported from France and Italy.

“For desert: mince pies, mint chocolate mousse, and mulled cider.”

Katherine’s eyebrows raised as she heard each item. Her mouth watered at the thought of consuming the delicious spread. She nodded and smiled ecstatically, happily awaiting the meals.

“My uncle wishes to know when everything will be ready to be served,” she said, eyeing the goose expectantly. It’s skin was perfectly browned and looked more than ready to devour.

“Not much longer now, my lady,” he said, bowing slightly toward her. She was startled by the gesture, as it was a gesture usually reserved for the lady of the house.

_Though,_ she thought, _I suppose that is me now._

She smiled and curtsied stiffly, thanking him. She dismissed herself and set off to find her uncle, who returned to entertaining their guests. She nearly ran into the Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola along the away.

The woman wasn’t really her Uncle Ombric’s aunt, she was actually the a childhood friend of his aunt’s who took time to check in on him after his family passed away all those years ago.

“Oh!” she said. “I am terribly sorry, dearest aunt. I did not step on your toes, did I?”

“No, no,” the old woman said. “My toes are quite fine. My heart on the other hand is beating ferociously.”

“Shall I retrieve a chair for you? Or escort you to a seat?”

“I am quite fine — er, which one are you again?”

“I am Katherine, dearest aunt.” She bobbed in a quick curtsy.

“Ah, the little girl my nephew took in. You are a kind girl. You have bright eyes and a kiss at the corner of your mouth. Quite a pretty little thing. Tell me, what is it you spend your time doing?”

“I ride my pony Kailash when my lessons are complete for the day, dearest aunt. I also knit and embroider.”

“Do you crochet?”

“No, dearest aunt. I have tried but it is not one of my strengths.”

“Pity, you can make many things by crocheting. Ah well. Anything else you do?”

“I read and write. I enjoy the little library we have here.”

“A book lover? Tell me, what is your favorite book?”

Katherine though about it for a moment… then two… then three. What _**was** _ her favorite book? Did she even have one? Smartly, she answered:

“It all depends on what I just read and the genre,” she said, slowly. “There are so many types of books, how does one choose their favorite?”

“How, indeed,” the Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola said, chuckling. “You are a smart girl. Perhaps I should tell my nephew to send you to visit me for a while.”

A sharp tinkling of a bell reverberated down the hall from where the other guests were gathered. It was time for dinner.

* * *

 

“Oh, how much longer, Miss Shalazar?”

Katherine smiled down at the younger children who could hardly keep their excitement. Dinner was done, their plates cleared away, and the guests waited in the drawing room. Her uncle, several other adults, and the housekeeper Seda had locked the doors to the ballroom. In there, preparations for the rest of the evening continued.

She could hear other young women, schooled and marriageable, entertaining the other guests. Soon she would be one of those young ladies. She shuddered at the thought. She did not quite like the idea, nor did she like the fact that it meant that she would soon be too old to join the children whilst they listened to her brother’s stories of his adventures.

She should actually be amongst the adults, seeing as how she was dressed in a white dress with a blue ribbon waist sash, the standard colors a schoolgirl wore while she was in attendance. Not to mention, it was her first year without pantalettes. She smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in the skirt and replied:

“We have to wait for the Christmas Fairy to tell us when it is time,” she said, folding her hands behind her back. She would somehow have to make it seem as if the Christmas Fairy was real for them. She was a clever girl, so she did not think too hard about it.

“Christmas Fairy?” one of the older children said. “I have never heard of the Christmas Fairy.”

“Oh, that is because she is kept a secret. My Uncle only told me yesterday about her. She’s very kind and very pretty.”

“Have you seen her?” a young child asked.

“You cannot really see her, she is a little ball of light. But you just know that she is beautiful. She helps to deliver gifts to all the good girls and boys. My Uncle asked her especially this year to deliver the presents for the ball. But she might not bring anyone any presents if we keep talking. She does not like noise. How about we sit and wait for her, hmm?”

She was able to get all of the children to sit quietly on the floor or in nearby chairs and benches while they continued to wait. The wait was not long. They were rewarded with the chinking of heavenly bells — and Katherine was quite sure she saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye — and opening doors.

The children cried out and openly gaped into the ballroom. Her uncle, several adults, and Seda all welcomed them and the other guests. But there was another man in there with them, one who Katherine recognized despite the hair on his face.

“Nicholas!” she said, dashing over to him. He enveloped her into a fierce embrace and kissed her cheeks. “You have a _**beard**_.”

“And you have grown considerably,” he said, setting her back down. He held her at arm’s length, looking her over from head to toe. “Look at you, Kisa. A young lady now.”

“You also have quite the stomach. Is the cooking really that good?”

“Mr. North!” Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola, on the arm of a cousin, walked stiffly over to them. “What a mild entrance this year.”

Katherine stifled her laughter as the two of them chatted. She could clearly remember the past few times he joined them on holiday celebrations.

He was quite late the previous Easter Sunday. He had grumbled how Easter was _**not** _ as important as Christmastime and it was really a waste on everyone. The children were not given gifts, after all. He got scorned by Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola — who everyone was still surprised to see walking around, quite alive at her age — and beaten over the head with her mighty, gnarled cane. Easter was not about gifts, it was about Jesus and his resurrection. Everyone knew that.

And the Christmas three years ago, having been absent the last two years, he arrived with a company of men no better than Cossacks! They delighted the children with tales of gripping adventures and shows of their skill. Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola was not impressed and beat them all with her mighty, gnarled cane.

Not to mention how, five Christmases ago, Nicholas arrived in the middle of dinner with an army _**reindeer**_ , trailing after him as he entered the dining room. They were a parade of antlers and candles and tinsel and gloriously wrapped presents all in a sleigh. Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola shooed the reindeer out and beat Nicholas over the head with her mighty, gnarled cane.

Or the Christmas seven years ago where there was a snowball fight. Indoors. As Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola was arriving with her now deceased husband. There were many beatings with her might, gnarled cane that day. Almost everyone learned their lesson. Except Nicholas.

Yes, Nicholas Saint North was bound to make exciting entrances that amused many and often got him in trouble. This year, however, things were quite different.

“I got here near the beginning of dinner,” Nicholas said. “I decided to enter through the kitchen doors. They helped smuggle myself and my gifts in. Uncle was not even aware I had arrived until after he had eaten his fill. Sorry that I was unable to join all of you. It smelled delicious.”

“I will have a plate put in the icebox for you,” Uncle Ombric said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“May we open our presents yet?” one of the children asked.

“Oh, which ones are from the Christmas Fairy?” another said.

“Christmas Fairy?” Uncle Ombric said.

“Yes, Uncle,” Katherine said. “Remember, you told me about the Christmas Fairy yesterday and how you asked her to bring our gifts here especially?”

The older man looked down at her confused for a moment, then smiled. He patted her head and pulled her in to a hug.

“Ah, yes, _**that** _ Christmas Fairy. Well…”

“They are all very good, and they sat quietly while we waited. I do believe that their good behavior warrants presents.”

The children begged and pleaded as nicely as they could, though they were a tad too excited to see what they had received. Uncle Ombric raised his arm, and they quieted down.

“No worries, Uncle,” Nicholas said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The Christmas Fairy requested my help when you recruited her. She gave me designs for very special presents for the children. Now, let me see. Which ones were they…”

He scanned the presents, shaking his head after each one his examined. He was rather comical. He stopped in front of a group of parents and asked them to part. They revealed a nice sized box. He pulled out a gnarled stick and tapped on it twice. He opened the box and… nothing was inside.

“Oops.” he said. “That wasn’t the right knock.”

He closed the box and tapped it three times. He reopened the box and inside was four dolls, two male and two female. One man was dressed in vibrant reds and violets and blues. One female was dressed in whites and pinks. The last two were dressed similar, in blacks and white — little clowns, Katherine realized. None of them were any higher than her knees, but there were all made of porcelain, gears, stuffing, and fabric.

“Pierrot and Pierrette,” she said, beaming. Many of the children looked at her, confused. “Pierrot is a clown in love with Columbine. She leaves him for Harlequin, and he becomes sad. Pierrette, who has been madly in love with Pierrot the whole time, is sad for him and tries to make him happy again.”

“Does Pierrot ever fall in love with Pierrette?” one child asked.

“Why don’t we watch and see?” Nicholas said. He tapped his gnarled stick against the box five times, and the dolls sprang to life. A little song chimed for the box, much to the delight of the children. They enacted, in pantomime, the little story Katherine had told them, complete with a bittersweet ending. Columbine attempted to return to Pierrot, who rejected her. He knelt in front of a startled Pierrette, his arms out wide. Pierrette knelt next to him, she happily returned his love. Columbine stood, poised with her hands in from of her face. The Harlequin doll had disappeared back into the box. The song ended on a happy note, and the children clapped.

Nicholas collected the dolls and placed them back in the box. The children chatted excitedly about them, wanting more. They were sent off to find the next Christmas present. They brought Nicholas ones from under the tree, which he all shot down.

“What’s that behind you, Miss Katherine?” one of the older children asked. He pointed to a box on a table that she had not seen.

Katherine picked it up and carried it over to Nicholas. He smiled at her and set it on the floor by his feet. Like the previous time, he tapped the box three times and opened it. Inside was a little ballerina dressed in bright pinks and purples and gold. There was no story to her dancing, but it was beautiful. She twirled up on her little porcelain toes in time to the music, her movements creating a soft tinkling. It was a bit odd but while one of the doll’s feet was flexed down, the other was flat up. Still, she whirled around in the circle of children, Katherine, North, and on-looking adults. When the ballerina doll ended her dance, they all clapped politely. Nicholas cradled the doll and placed her back in her box.

“There is one more present,” he said, clasping the lock. He set the box aside and looked at the children. “Well, go on and find it.”

They scattered like leaves in the wind once again, searching wherever they could for the last gift. Katherine watched delightedly from her little perch atop an armrest of a divan.

“Aren’t you going to join them?” Nicholas said, cocking a brow.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It wouldn’t be fair. I know all of your hiding spots.”

“Oh? Do tell, where is my last gift?”

She hummed and looked about, eyes breezing over the actual spot she knew the present was lurking. After a moment, she nodded to one of the corners. Tucked away on the flat surface of the floor was a box wrapped in white paper and tied with a silver bow. It was larger than the others, height wise, and was much wider.

“That wasn’t there when we were decorating the room earlier,” she said. He chuckled and patted her on the head, careful of messing up her hair.

“Good girl. How long do you think it will take them?”

“Not too long now. Give them another minute or so.”

And, indeed, one of the boys spotted it. He pointed it out and gave a great cry, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The children gathered around it and waited for Nicholas. Katherine trailed after him, sticking to the outskirt of the group. She was quite pleased to see that she was taller than most of them.

She watched as the man pulled the gift from the corner to a coffee table and undid the ribbon — giving it to one of the single cousins whose hair was cut short in the style of _a la Titus_. He showed the children what was inside. It was a snow globe. Inside, beyond the glass, was a very pretty castle that seemed to reflect the light — like the moon did to the sun’s rays. The globe itself was much too heavy for any single child to lift. How on earth were they supposed to make the snow dance?

Nicholas withdrew a key from his front lapel pocket and cranked it. The snow globe came to life almost instantly. It chimed out a tune as internal fans hummed to life, creating a current to ensnare the snow. Little lights inside the castle lit up in time with the music. It all slowly died away and the children begged Nicholas to make it work again. He did so, several more times, before Ombric called for everyone’s attention.

It was time to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d: As mentioned at the top, this was originally the first chapter in my first edition of this fic. The next chapter was combined with this chapter. I decided to add this in because I liked it. It’s now a monster… which makes me Frankenstein. Hur hur hur…
> 
> GGGA Nicola is my favorite OC for this universe. I would like to say that she’s based off one of my grandmothers, but she isn’t. She is who I hope to be when I’m older. She was actually inspired by Mme. Padva from The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. (Never read it? Check out the adult section of your library. The book is on my recommendations list.) Make note, I said inspired by. Really, they’re nothing alike.
> 
> She is one of the few surviving characters from the original version of this. In fact, the bit about her cane that was copied and pasted from this chapter to the next simply because I liked it so much. She’s totally likeable. Totally.
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> In E. T. A. Hoffmann’s original tale, the main character is name Marie, and she had a doll named Clara. In the original libretto, it was the same. It was changed by one director and had consistently flip flop depending on who is in charge. In many Russian versions, however, her name is Masha.


	3. IN WHICH KATHERINE RECEIVES A PRESENT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine receives a very important present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: This chapter I went back and forth on how I wanted to write it. The end result isn’t… 100% but the majority of it was written in one sitting — something I’m happy about. I finished the midnight of the day it was started, first edits included.
> 
> I’m actually really glad to hear that people are liking what they’ve read thus far and are happy that someone finally did this AU. You honestly brought a smile to my face.

Katherine liked to dance. She wasn’t the most graceful dancer — often stepping on people’s toes and missing beats — but it was Christmastime and no one seemed to mind. She danced with cousins and aunts and uncles, all of whom were not really cousins or aunts or uncles. It didn’t matter. A family is not bred, it is made up of a patchwork or people who perhaps met at a café one fine spring morning and shared a table, and then kept in contact over the years.

She was quite proud of the patchwork family her uncle collected. They all suited each other quite nicely. From her perch on a rather high-backed wing chair near a well-burning fire, she watched all of their interactions. People chatted, told stories, were scolded by Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola, given sweets and hot chocolate. It was peaceful.

After their dancing in the ball room — which was just as festively decorated — the party retired back to the drawing room to enjoy the rest of their peaceful holiday. People formed cliques and chatted together. Children had pulled out Katherine’s old toys from a cabinet and played with them. Almost everyone was sitting, nursing feet swollen from the previous activity.

“There you are, my girl,” her Uncle Ombric said, offering her a steaming mug of chocolate. “So far away from everyone? Tell me, what are you thinking?”

“I like my family,” she said, taking and sipping the hot chocolate. “It’s nice and odd. It suits all of us.”

“And that apprentice of mine wants to make it larger, I am afraid.” Katherine looked at him and raised a brow. “He went and invited a friend of his to join us after Christmas.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“We might not have any beds for any more guests.”

“Oh,” Katherine said, nodding. She had forgotten that all of the guests that came to the annual Christmas party stayed a day or five — or anywhere in between. It could be troublesome, to entertain some of the relatives for more than a day or so, but oftentimes she was glad for the company. Sekjova Manor was quite large and it would get lonely for the girl.

Nicholas’s booming voice drew attention to him once more, drawing Katherine out of her thoughts. The guests gathered around him near the tree once more, awaiting to see what he planned next.

“It’s almost time for all of us to head off to bed,” he said, nodding to the children yawning openly and rubbing their tired eyes. Some parents had had to carry their drooping children, debating not moments before whether or not to call things to an end. “Before we all scurry off to bed and we dream of sugar-plums dancing in our heads, I thought it would be a grand idea for the children to open one present each tonight.”

This caused the drooping, tired children to perk up and look about bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. They liked the idea of opening a present. They liked it very much.

Katherine was called forward to help, as was her Uncle Ombric and the cousin with the stylishly short hair. Not for the first time, Katherine was grateful that there were fewer children these past few years than there ever had been. And she was thankful that all of the children ripped off the pretty paper quickly, much to their parents’ disappointment. They rather liked seeing what the others received.

After the last present was opened and thoroughly inspected, Nicholas presented Katherine with a simply wrapped box with brown paper and a gold ribbon. She blinked up at him and back down to the gift, not quite sure what to think.

“Your last present as a child,” he said. “A friend of mine thought… he thought you would like him best.”

_Him?_

Katherine took the box and undid the bow, dropping it onto the floor. The paper soon followed, all in one piece. The box inside was made of tin — the kind she had seen Old William’s wife store cookies in — and brightly painted with little soldiers caught in the heat of battle. It was a garish sight.  
She popped off the lid, tucking it under her arm. Inside, on a muslin wrapped pillow, was an unusual wooden doll. He had messy white hair made of some kind of fur she didn’t recognize. His suit a soldier’s regalia — it was not made of wood, like the rest of him, but rather a soft, glittery material she had never seen before. Little silver buttons were sewn on. His large, bulbous head was topped with a black hat she had seen Nicholas wear once or twice — it looked better on the doll.

True, he wasn’t the most handsome doll she had seen, but there was something quite charming in the shy, painted on smile and the startlingly bright green eyes. She found that the longer she looked at him, the more she liked him.

“What is it?” a boy said, standing on his tip-toes to see what she had been given. “Katinka, what is it?”

“It’s ugly,” a girl said, scowling down at the doll.

“He’s a soldier,” Katherine said, showing the cluster of shorter children. They ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the sight.

“Correct, Kisa,” Nicholas said, clapping his hands on her shoulders. She nearly dropped the doll. She took him out, cradling him in one arm, and set the box down and out of the way. “This is a very loyal soldier to a missing prince. He was turned into a doll by the Boogeyman as punishment for keeping secret where the prince was hiding.”

“I feel like there is an interesting story behind how you got him,” Katherine said, sitting down in an empty spot on a couch.

“Oh, yes. You see a friend of mine — he’ll be coming after Christmas, he promised — came upon him while he was traversing a cave in Siberia.”

“Siberia!” Ombric said, snorting. “ _ **Now** _ I’ve heard everything. No dolls like _**that** _ are made in Siberia.”

“As I was saying, he found this handsome fellow in a cave in Siberia. He tried to sell it to several people. He was desperate to be rid of the doll when I met up with him.

“‘Nicholas,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do with him. No one seems to want him.’

“‘Well, show him to me,’ I said.

“And he did. I thought he was quite ugly when I saw him, quite like most of you. But I could sense something special about this doll. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, though.

“‘Konstantin,’ I said, ‘what could I do to take him off your hands?’

“‘Do you know anyone with a powerful imagination and a good heart?’ he said.

“And it was decided then and there that my Kisa would be the new caretaker to the doll.”

“That was a horrible story,” the girl who had scolded the doll’s appearance said. Katherine had to agree with her. Nicholas was _**terrible** _ at telling stories.

“Can you tell us the story of how he became the doll?” said one of the boys.

“Why was the Boogeyman after him and his prince in the first place?” said a little girl. “What did they do to him?”

“Is it because they’re good people?” said another little boy. “The Boogeyman hates good people.”

“Where is his prince hiding?”

“Isn’t his prince wondering where he is?”

“What can we do to help him?”

“Does he need true love’s kiss? I bet he needs Katherine’s true love kiss. Katinka, kiss him! You’ll make him all better.”

“Hold on now,” Nicholas said, “I’m afraid I only know what Konstantin told me. The exact details were never shared with me. Besides, it’s time for bed.”

There was a chorus of moans and groans from the children, and a sigh of relief from the adults. They were starting to feel tired from the day’s events. Sleep would be more than welcome when they finally reached their beds.

“Here’s an idea,” Nicholas said. “How about you all dream up a story for him, hm? We’ll have a little contest, see who creates the best. Now, we can’t get started if we don’t get to bed. Hup to it!”

* * *

Katherine was more than relieved to be free of the guests for the night. She was able to strip off her slippers and stockings, carrying them in one hand as she started out of the drawing room. She needn’t worry about someone seeing anything indecent at this hour of the night.

“Katherine,” Uncle Ombric said, “the doll.”

She looked down to her arms. She was still cradling him, holding him close as if she was trying to protect him. But protect him from… _**what** _ exactly? The Boogeyman? She wasn’t afraid of a Boogeyman. He was just a silly story told to children to make them go to bed on time.

“I was going to bring him up into my room,” she said. “There’s a clear space on one of my shelves that I can put him on.”

“Tradition states that all presents must remain downstairs until after Christmas.”

_That’s a silly tradition,_ she thought. Still, she turned back around and found a nice spot in a china cabinet with all of her old toys. She would have to be rid of them soon. Perhaps some cousins were looking for some lightly used dolls…

“Goodnight,” she said to the doll, covering him with a handkerchief she had finished embroidering earlier in the week. It felt like she should be doing that, like it was natural. When she turned around, she could tell her uncle wanted to roll his eyes. “Goodnight to you, too, Uncle Ombric.”

She pecked him on both cheeks and headed back out of the room. She took the stairs two at a time, bare feet slapping noisily on the steps. Her mind was on warm bed sheets and soft pillows. Sleep sounded wonderful.

“Kisa?”

She stopped and turned to see Nicholas peeking out of his door. She hugged him around the waist and playfully tugged on his beard.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said. “It gets lonely here without you around.”

“You have the Williams in town.”

“Yes, but they’re in _**town**_. When you’re here, you’re only two doors away.”

He chuckled and patted her on the head.

“Tell me,” he said, “do you like your gift?”

“Do you really not know his story? It’s sad, not knowing it.”

“I have a feeling that you’ll figure it all out.” He gave her that knowing smile — the one he always gave her when he believed he knew best. “Now, get on to bed. We’ll all need sleep for what’s to come.”

They embraced one final time. Nicholas closed his door and Katherine tip-toed the rest of the way to her room. She quickly changed into her nightgown and slipped under the sheets and quilts.

It wasn’t until she had practically drifted off did she realize that she didn’t even name her new doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d: So, the doll was introduced. Notice how I said “doll” not “nutcracker”. I got kind of bored with the nutcracker thing. Okay, maybe not bored, but it was what’s expected. (Blame Winterspell by Claire Legrand for that — haven’t heard of Winterspell? It’s an adaptation of The Nutcracker. Go read it.) We all expected a nutcracker, so I changed it up. All of us know the story, some bratty boy breaks the nutcracker’s jaw or arm or teeth or something. I had forgone that for this simple because, like the nutcracker thing, we all know and expect it. I went with a girl calling him “ugly” instead.
> 
> I actually love nutcrackers, too. I never tire of them or learning about them. They’ve been my favorite thing about the holidays for as long as I can remember. I have this little decorative one with a while suit and black hair. He recently lost his hat, so I have to glue it back on. 
> 
> I should start a collection — my own nutcrackers. People are going to hate coming to my house and seeing all of them in every room. Kind of creepy…
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> According to German folklore, nutcrackers were given as keepsakes to bring good luck to your family and protect your home. The legend says that a nutcracker represents power and strength and serves like a trusty watch dog guarding your family from evil spirits and danger. A fierce protector, the nutcracker bares its teeth to the evil spirits and serves as the traditional messenger of good luck and goodwill.


	4. IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTRUDER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine finds something most interesting in the drawing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: Sorry about the wait. Studying and finals and other college stuff distracted me — I passed. And then I had some holiday shopping to do. Alcohol is a really expensive gift. I need coupons for that stuff…
> 
> Anyway, the fun truly starts to begin. 
> 
> I struggled with chapter, mostly because I knew what I wanted to happen but I didn’t know how it was going to come about. This is… this is what allowed itself to be written.

Katherine woke to the chiming of the grandfather clock at the end of the hallway. It’s deep cries piercing through her unconscious mind. It was a painful sound. Funny, she never noticed that before.

She sat up slowly, feeling cold from sweating and itchy — like she had dozens of bug bites. And there was a dull ache in her lower abdomen unlike anything she ever felt before. Had she eaten something that caused her stomach to be upset? It was possible.

_Perhaps a glass of water,_ she thought, sliding out of bed. She found her slippers and dressing gown, quickly donning them in a vain attempt to keep warm. She probably should have stayed in bed until the sweat on her body dried.

But there was no time for that. She was thirsty and her stomach was starting to burn. She trudged down the hallway and back downstairs. She found the kitchen easily enough, though no one was awake, and she looked about for a glass. She settled for a bowl.

She felt better after quenching her thirst, the pangs in her abdomen diminishing as she set the bowl off to the side of the sink. She decided it was best to return to bed. She was still quite tired.

She found her way back to the main hall, passing the darkened drawing room as she did. A little clatter from inside drew her attention.

_Rats?_

She peeped in and saw nothing. Shrugging, she turned away. She had barely taken a step when the clatter resounded again. It sounded like… it sounded like someone was messing with a lock. The lock on the china cabinet?

She adjusted the sleeves on her dressing gown, pulling them down to cover her palms. She peeped in once again, squinting through the darkness to see who was messing with the cabinet.

The room, she noticed, was darker than usual. The curtains were drawn. She found it peculiar. Her Uncle Ombric _**never** _ closed the curtains in the drawing room, especially on Christmas. Not to mention the candles were left burning the whole night. They had always let them burn themselves out. From what she could make out, even in the darkness, the stark white wax candles were still decent heights — they shouldn’t burn out until the morning.

_I should have brought my own candle,_ she thought. _It would have been the smart thing to do._

Katherine stepped into the room one toe at a time, being cautious to not alert the other person in the room. Her feet padded softly on the carpeted floor, the slippers helping to minimize any sounds her feet would have otherwise.

Had there been more light, she would have seen the one toy left out, but sadly she tripped over it. Her arms flailing helplessly on the way down. She landed hard on her stomach.

She closed her eyes and groaned. That really hurt. She rolled into a sitting position, checking to see if the person near the cabinet was still there — they were gone. Well, it was best to check to see if anything was taken.

She got up and winced at the slight pain in her right ankle. She hoped it was just bruised. She hobbled her way over, babying the injured foot just slightly, to the cabinet. The lock was undamaged, from what she could tell, but the key was in the hole. She pocketed it and started back out. Something in the corner of her eye stopped her. It was a flash of… _**something**_. A trick of the light? But, what light.

A tugging at the back of her mind told her to turn around, pulling her back to the cabinet. Before she could realize what she was doing, she had the door unlocked. Blinking, she pocketed the key once more and looked around at the toys lining the shelves. Her eyes stopped on the doll. She picked him up, cradling him in her arms once more.

She turned around and the second she did, the candles on the tree flickered on and the fire in the fireplace sputtered to life. Startled by the sudden brightness, she backed in to the cabinet. A few glass and porcelain toys rattled. What truly startled her was the man standing in the middle of the room.

He was dressed in fine black fabric — a soldier’s regalia not dissimilar to the doll’s, only the man had a high, beaded collar — and his dark hair was slicked back. His eyes, yellow and dead, pierced through her uncomfortably.

She did not know him. He wasn’t one of the annual guests, nor was he an acquaintance of her Uncle Ombric’s. Perhaps, though, he was Nicholas’s friend — what was his name? Oh, right! Konstantin. But something about the name seemed off. It did not suit him at all.

“Hello,” the man said, looking her up and down. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“No, _**you** _ shouldn’t be here,” she said. “This is a private residence. It belongs to my uncle.”

“What I meant to say, dear girl, was that you should be upstairs, in your bed. How about you hand over the doll, hm? And I’ll be on my way. No one will know I’ve been here.”

“But I will.” She hugged the doll closer. “I’ll remember and I’ll tell everyone that I saw you.”

“My dear girl,” he said, “no one would believe that you saw the _**Boogeyman** _ as they call me. Hate the name, really.”

She blinked at him. _**He** _ was the _**Boogeyman**_? He was hardly frightening to look at — in fact his high collar made him look silly. The only thing that was really off-putting about him was his eyes.

“Why do you want my doll?” she said, meeting those eyes. She was always told to face her fears, well here was the Master of Fear and she was certainly not going to back down.

“I need him to find someone,” the Boogeyman said. “He took someone I love away from me.”

_Find someone?_ she thought. She looked down at her doll, frowning. She tried to recall what Nicholas had told them all.

“The prince,” she said to herself under her breath.

“Ah, there you go. Now, hand over the little soldier and I’ll be on my way.”

Katherine wasn’t sure what made her say it, but she felt compelled to declare her answer. Her voice was loud — she was positive that she would wake the whole household, guests and staff — and it resounded loudly through the room. It was solid, defiant, and just a smidge cocky.

“No,” she said. “No. He was entrusted to me. I will protect him. You can’t have him!”

The man regarded her with silence. The pregnant pause between them seemed louder than her voice had been a moment before. What frightened her the most was that even the popping and snapping of the fire seemed to hush.

“Well,” he said, after a moment, “you have just made a very grave mistake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d: There was supposed to be a grand, big battle in this chapter. That didn’t happen. The Boogeyman, er, Pitch wouldn’t allow it. So, he made the chapter shorter than I’d intended. 
> 
> And bits and pieces of a deeper subplot started to develop. I hadn’t intended for that to happen, but there they are! Seek and ye shall find them. It doesn’t really take a genius to figure out the subplot. Just a genre savvy writer.
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> The Steinbach family has been making nutcrackers for over 200 years and is known for changing the appearance of nutcrackers from ordinary soldiers to characters from all over the world.


	5. IN WHICH THE KNIGHT ARRIVES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of the drawing room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: The shortest of all of the chapters. All the chapters that follow after this one are 2k+. So, feel happy about that.
> 
> And this is my first action sequence. I’m really working on writing fight scenes — this being the first I’ve written outside the Danny Phantom universe — so I hope it’s not too confusing.
> 
> This changed quite a bit as I was writing. Some things that were supposed to happen didn’t, and then it twisted again and ended how I wanted it to. It was weird. But I’m happy, so that’s what matters, right?

The Boogeyman charged at her. Katherine opened her mouth to scream but no sound would come out. She tried dashing away at an angle, however he grabbed her wrist and jerked her back.

The force of his pull sent her tumbling over one of the couches in the middle of the room, bouncing off the cushions, and onto the top of a coffee table. She slid off the slick surface and onto the floor, winded and dazed.

A voice in the back of her mind urged her to run away, towards the door and up to her room — she would be safe there. She scrambled to her feet, clutching onto the doll with one arm and pushing herself up using the coffee table.

She started to the door but was jerked back by her hair and tossed back onto the ground.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the man said. “Just hand over the doll, and I’ll go.”

Katherine tried to say something but she was still struggling to breathe properly. She settled for shaking her head. She couldn’t give up the doll. A part of her told her that she should, she wouldn’t be hurt any more, but a more insistent part of her brain told her to stay strong. She could survive this.

The Boogeyman growled — a feral sound so otherworldly that she did not doubt his humanity — and charged her again. She was quick this time, able to dodge his attack by rolling away. Her back hit an inside wall, the same one with the fireplace.

Her eyes darted to the tools she had seen Nicholas and her Uncle Ombric and the servants use many times to stoke the fire. She grabbed the poker with her free hand, clutching it tightly.

She got to her feet, using the wall to support her weight. The poker was pointed in the Boogeyman’s direction. She pushed off the wall using her shoulder, taking tentative steps towards the door.

They circled until her back was to the open door, just a few steps away. Just when she thought she could make a run for it, the door snapped shut.

“You think I came here alone?” the Boogeyman said.

She peeped over her shoulder and saw shadowy figures swirling around the door. They were keeping it closed, locked from both sides. No one could get in, and she couldn’t get out. She started to one of the windows only for the Boogeyman to materialize in front of her.

“Hand him over,” he said, holding out a gray-skinned hand to her. She jerked the arm holding the doll away from him. His hand tightened into a fist, clenching tightly and starting to tremble. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t find the words she wanted. She could have spoken some defiant little thing that would have brought no more courage to her heart than was already there. Instead, she tilted her chin up and pursed her lips.

The Boogeyman scowled down at her. He took a step toward her, and she took one back. The pattern continued until her shins bumped into the coffee table. She stumbled back and landed on the flat surface, catching herself before she could tip over any further.

He took the moment of distraction and lifted her up from her neck. He didn’t squeeze, as she’d expected him to — it often happened to heroes and heroines in books — but she was held firmly above the tabletop.

She dropped the poker and adjusted her hold on the doll in order to claw at his hand. One of her nails must have hit a particularly sensitive nerve because, then, he squeezed. She gasped and sputtered, her nails digging in further. He held on tighter.

Her world started to fade and, she didn’t realize it but, her grip on the doll loosened. He started to fall. She cried out with her mind, reaching for anyone or anything to help her.

Her pleas were answered because the next thing she knew she had been dropped. Her feet hit the table painfully, and she fell forward and down to the carpet. She lied there gasping in sweet air with closed eyes.

When Katherine regained enough sense of mind, she opened her eyes to see the Boogeyman locked in combat with… the doll? _**When** _ and _**how** _ had her doll gotten so big? And where did his spear come from? And how on earth was he glowing?

The pair went back and forth, driving one person across the room and the other doing the same in his turn. They knocked over the Christmas tree — Katherine winced when it landed with a crunch, many of the pretty globes shattered into colorful bit — and tore down the pretty garland.

She got to her knees shakily, looking around to use something as a weapon. She found the poker and used the couches as support as she waited as they came back to her corner of the room.

The twisted around, her doll closest to her. She backed up, pulling the poker closer to the skirts of her night clothes. Her doll was able to turn them around again so that the Boogeyman’s back was to her.

She took the chance and lanced the poker up… and into the Boogeyman’s back. She felt skin and bone and muscle give — a horrible feeling — and in a moment of terrible wonder, she was knocked aside. Her head hit something hard, and the world started to fade to black again.

Katherine struggled to get up and out of the way. Her ears heard muffled cries of pain and anguish, and she was positive someone was calling her name. But the last thing she remembered was her doll’s green eyes looking down at her, terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont’d: There was supposed to be a battle with the toys and the Fearlings (not named but hinted to what they are), but it didn’t happen. The battle was focused on Katherine, her doll, and Pitch (who won’t be named in the fic for a while, but yeah that’s him).
> 
> I like pokers. Katherine was supposed to use it like a sword — having been taught by North — but that… that was one of the things that didn’t happen. I figured she already took quite a beating. Kind of unwarranted and brutal. Pitch wasn’t supposed to come off that way. His Fearlings were supposed to do all the dirty work. Oh well… *mumbles something about redemption subplot*
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> The Nutcracker and the Mouse King is not a child-friendly story. Like his other stories, E. T. A. Hoffmann wrote the novella for adults. His stories fall in line of those with Edgar Allen Poe and Alfred Hitchcock. The story was retold by Alexander Dumas Peré who made it child friendly — which the ballet was based on.


	6. IN WHICH KATHERINE DREAMS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: Sorry about that huge break from when the last chapter was posted. I had a lot of shopping to do (mostly my mom dragging me around because she didn't know what to get me) and then there was the wrapping. I think I only bagged one thing this year.
> 
> Anyway, MERRY HOLIDAYS! …I have no idea what some of you celebrate. And I have a long rant about Christmas but I won't post it. Instead, I leave you with this chapter.
> 
> This chapter. Oh boy. It was… fun. It's also the one of the longest chapters at this point — the second chapter and the next one being even longer.
> 
> Anyway, one of my favorite lines is in this chapter, and it's said by a little kid in the first scene. It's sad and tragic and I laughed after I wrote it. I'm a terrible person.

"Katherine?"

"Is she okay?"

"Did she _**die**_? If she's dead, can I have all of her dollies?"

"Shush. She's not dead. She hit her head on the table."

"Kisa… Katherine, please open your eyes. We can't move you until we know you're okay."

She slowly cracked her eyes open, wincing at the bright light and snapping them closed immediately. Her head throbbed painfully, and she was very tired. Why did they want to move her? Why did she have to wake up?

"Katherine, come on, open those eyes."

Sighing, she opened them and saw several people looking down at her. Nicholas and one of the uncles were the closest. Some cousins were looking around the arm of a couch. Her Uncle Ombric was sitting down, face in his hands.

"I'm okay," she said, sitting up. Everything ached and she almost lied back down, but she realized she wasn't in her room. That's right, she was in the drawing room. She looked down at herself, expecting something broken or bruised. Nothing but sore muscles and a rather insistent headache.

"You sure?" Nicholas said, helping her to her feet. His arms were out to steady her. "I think you need to lie down."

She looked around. The room was a _**disaster**_. The tree had fallen on a large percentage of the presents. The china cabinet was on its side. Garlands hung down off the walls like droopy, leafy limbs. The poker was in the middle of the room — the carpet around it dusted with ash.

"What on earth did you do to the room?" the uncle who'd kneeled next to her said.

"I was… There was…" she said, scrunching her face. She tried to tell them about the fight between her doll and the Boogeyman, but the words caught in her throat and her tongue turned numb.

"Rats," Seda said, inspecting the tree. Her lovely face curled into a scowl. Katherine caught the look that passed between her, Nicholas, and her Uncle Ombric. "Look here, they cut through the trunk."

Katherine tried to argue but, again, the words wouldn't pass her lips. _**Rats**_ had been nowhere _**near**_ this room, far as she knew. On top of that, rats weren't common to Santoff Claussen. But, when she saw the trunk, it did in fact look as though something had chewed through it — like a beaver.

"What are rats doing in Sekjova?" said an aunt.

"Rats!" a cousin said, shrieking and jumping onto a stool. Several other followed — taking positions on a couch, a coffee table, and a miserable attempt to leap onto the fireplace's mantel by a rather queer male cousin.

"You know rats can climb," her brother said. He was slapped by several aunts and cousins, male and female alike.

"Miss Katherine must have seen them and fainted," Seda said, meeting the girl's eyes. "Or, maybe, she tried to run and get help, and she tripped and hit her head."

"I…" Katherine said, trying to come up with _**something**_. Why couldn't she speak about what happened? Had the Boogeyman done something to her? Had he gotten her doll? "I… Yes, I tripped."

"What were you doing down here in the first place?" Nicholas said.

"I was thirsty and I heard a noise from the drawing room. I went in to see what happened and…"

"But how did the cabinet get turned on its side?" said the cousin with the _a la Titus_ styled hair.

"Very _**large**_ rats," Seda said. "Siberia is known for its very large rats. We get them, from time to time."

Katherine held back a snort. _**Very large rats**_. It was laughable. Anyone who knew anything about Siberia would know that while, yes the rats were larger and more aggressive than the common brown rat, black rats were even more so.

"Why doesn't everyone go back to bed, hm?" Uncle Ombric said, trying to be cheerful. The smile on his face did not reach his eyes or voice. "These very large rats aren't good at climbing stairs. We'll be safe up there."

Katherine was led to a couch. She was given a blanket and told to wait until someone could escort her to her room. Two uncles and Nicholas got to straightening the cabinet, the toys inside rattling. Her doll, she noticed, was not amongst them. Her Uncle Ombric had gone off with Seda, mumbling something about rats and fetching a doctor. The aunts and cousins led the children away.

"But what about Christmas?" one of the children asked, his eyes ready to spill tears as he looked back at the tree.

Katherine looked away from him and down to her trembling hands — when had that started? Her heart dropped to the floor and she, too, felt like crying.

* * *

There wasn't much cheer the next morning. Everyone was down and no amount of delicious Christmas breakfast could make it better. Katherine, who felt the guiltiest of them all, barely touched her dry toast and cup of milk.

The spread was luxurious. Waffles with strawberries and sweet whipped cream. Fresh hot chocolate. Eggs: scrambled, soft and hard boiled, and fried. Chewy bacon. Crisp, fat sausages. Biscuits and white gravy with sausage chunks. Gingerbread men and women with faces painted with white frosting in wide smiles. A cold fruit salad. Toast with butter and marmalade to spread. And two cinnamon and sugar bread rolls tied in twists and drizzled with a frosting.

Katherine looked away from the food and dismissed herself. Her stomach felt overstuffed with cotton. And no one tried to stop her.

"Poor girl," one aunt said to another, in a hushed tone, as she left. "Attacked by rats in the middle of the night while she was trying to get some water. Very large rats, from what I heard — as big as a dog. The servants claim that rats of unusual size are quite common in the area."

"Oh dear," said the other aunt. "Why hadn't I heard of that before? I hope they don't chew up my dancing slippers. I just bought a new pair. They're rather pretty. I'll show them to you later…"

Katherine rolled her eyes and started down the main hall. She passed the drawing room — the doors now locked tight. Earlier, when she headed to breakfast, the doors were cracked open. The servants spent most of the early morning cleaning up the room, taking it in hour long shifts. From what she had seen, they had done a wonderful job of patching things up. She hoped the room would look as lovely as it did the previous night.

Unsure of what to do, she headed back up to her room. Normally, by this time, everyone would be opening up presents and sipping on hot chocolate. Instead, they were moping and soaking up each others' misery.

She was stopped in the hallway near the stairs leading up to the bedchambers by her Uncle Ombric and the doctor. She had rarely ever the need for a doctor growing up. Not because she was frightened of _**them**_ , oh no. Katherine did not like doctors because of their… _**treatments**_. And "treatments" was the polite term for them.

"Katherine," her uncle said, "you remember Doctor Wendelstern?"

Oh, she did. Doctor Wendelstern had been invited to an Easter brunch a few years back and had sworn to never return to a holiday celebration at Sekjova ever again. Funny how life went sometimes.

"Hello," she said, curtsying.

"Hello, Miss Shalazar," Doctor Wendelstern said, smiling. "I heard you had quite the adventure last night. Rats, correct? Awful fun. Your uncle said you hit your head when you fainted."

"Yes."

"Mind if I check out your head?"

She nodded and looked about for something to it on. There was a high wooden bench next to a table for the post. She sat down on it and waited patiently as he felt the bump and turned her head this way and that. He clucked several times and hummed in between. After a moment, he said:

"She'll be perfectly fine. Just a day or two of bed rest and lots of sleep. If she starts to have any headaches, give her some willow bark tea. If the pain persists afterwards, call for me, and I'll get here as soon as I can…"

Katherine sighed as she watched them walk away. She had been told to wait at the bench for her uncle to return, but she felt the need to lie down and sleep. Her dreams had been plagued by images of the Boogeyman and her doll and a bloodstained battlefield. She was rather afraid to go back to sleep.

When she reached her room, she quickly changed out of her dress and into her nightgown, draping her dress over the back of her desk chair. She drew the curtains and dashed to her still unmade bed — she had a feeling that no one made it on purpose. She snuggled deeper into the blankets and allowed herself to drift off.

* * *

When she woke, her room was still dark. She was still tucked in to the warm womb that was her bed. The little clock on her desk read six. Had she slept through until the next morning?

Peeking through her curtains, the sky was dark. Perhaps she had slept that long. But, why hadn't anyone checked in on her? Had they tried and she slapped them away? She had done that once, knocking her Uncle Ombric to the ground. _**That**_ woke her up.

She quietly tiptoed out of her room. The halls were dark. They were never that dark. Usually, someone lit the gas lamps at five — earlier from time to time. And the air felt… _**cold**_.

Katherine went to pull her dressing gown closer to her and found she wasn't wearing it. In fact, she wasn't even in her nightgown. She was wearing her nicest dress — a pretty yellow thing embroidered at the hems with little white geese. When had she changed?

Actually, when had she taken this dress out? It had been hung in the back of her wardrobe. She hadn't had the opportunity or need for to wear it — so few occasions in Santoff Claussen called for the need of full dress. How odd…

Her slippered feet softly padded against the hardwood floors as she made her way downstairs where, it too, was dark. In fact, no one — family, friend, servant — seemed to be moving about.

On her round back from the kitchens, music and laughter swelled from the drawing room. The door was cracked open, light and warmth beckoning to her. It hadn't been that way when she passed the first time.

She pushed open the doors and saw a party — though it was most definitely _**not**_ her drawing room. The room was too large, the decorations and furniture too grand, too many people milling about and dancing. Everyone was in their finest dress, though their clothing style was thirty or so years out of date. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

And still, no one seemed to notice her. They chatted and laughed as if she were merely a ghost passing by. She slipped around ladies' large skirts looking about in wonder.

She knew this place. She had only been there once and it had not been during any celebration — that was still some time off. It was one of the royal palaces — she couldn't quite remember which one.

Her Uncle Ombric, Nicholas, and herself had visited once or twice when she was still quite small. They had visited the emperor, well her Uncle Ombric had. She and Nicholas had been left to explore the palace. She met the princes, though neither of them wanted anything to do with her at the time. She was a girl, after all, and still very young. She didn't blame them.

So, she was at the royal palace… thirty or so years ago. How had she gotten there?

"Did you hear about the general?" one woman said, whispering to another behind a fan.

"Oh, yes," said the other. "Poor dear…"

Katherine turned away, not wanting to hear anymore, and when she did the world tilted and swirled around her. The people and decorations were gone, but she was still in the same, vast room. She was alone.

After a moment, a finely dressed man and two young men dressed in soldier regalia hurriedly walked through, talking to one another.

"We have to move," one of the young men said. "We need to do something before he and his rebel troupes march through the city streets. Who knows what they'll do — burn buildings, kill innocent citizens, push baby carriages out into busy streets with… with the babies still in them!"

"Máni, you're being ridiculous," the finely dress man said, rolling his eyes. "Push baby carriages into busy streets. No, he'll rally protests and then strike when he has an optimal force. He knows we won't hurt our own citizens. He'll use that against us."

"So what are we supposed to do then? Has a tea party and wait for him to come?"

"No. We need to keep this from the public eye. Keep it out of the whispers. No need to have the city thrown into a panic."

"Well, I'm not going to wait around for something to happen!"

The young man stomped off, leaving the other two standing there, exasperated. They were hardly there a moment when another man entered.

"Your Imperial Majesty," the new man said, saluting. "We have new information to the location of General Pitchiner."

"Go and follow my brother, would you?" the finely dress man said to the young man who had entered with him. "Make sure he doesn't get himself killed. He's bound to do something foolish."

"Yes, sir," said the young man. He bowed and jogged off after the other young man. He stopped near the door and turned back to look around. He scanned the room. His eyes stopped on her and his lips moved, saying:

"Katherine."

* * *

"Katherine"

Someone was shaking her arm and gently calling her name. She opened her eyes to find a relatively dim room — the only light was from a candle on her bedside table.

Nicholas was smiling down at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pecked her on her cheek.

"Hello, Kisa," he said. "Sorry to wake you."

"It's alright," she said. "I was dreaming that I was at the royal palace — the winter one."

Her mind, a bit more coherent recognized the room. It was the Grand Ball Room. She had played tag with the then young prince and a few other noble children. She proved to them that she had been the fastest and nearly un-catchable.

"Ah, well, maybe you can tell me about it later or tomorrow, hm? You still look like you could use some more sleep."

She swatted at him playfully, smiling. She sat up, propping herself up on the pillows.

"What did you come in here for?" she said. "Doctor's orders were that I was to be left alone and rest."

"I came to give you this," he said. He pulled something up from the side of the bed and offered it to her.

"Oh." Her doll. She hadn't really wondered what happened to him, though in the back of her mind there had always been a little worry. She took him from Nicholas, sitting him in her lap. "Where did you find him?"

"Underneath the Christmas tree when we were cleaning up."

"That's where you were this morning?"

"Yes, I wanted to make the drawing room look beautiful again. Everyone's down there right now, opening presents. He's all I brought for you, I'm sorry to say."

"That's fine." She combed the doll's white hair with her fingers, smoothing it down. There was one strand that rebelled and insisted on staying up. She gave up after the tenth try. She found that she rather liked it that way. "He's all I could ask for."

There was a pregnant silence between the two of them for several minutes. She started down at her doll. Was it just her or was he smiling at her? He most definitely hadn't been smiling when she received him…

"Seems like you two had a fine battle with the Boogeyman last night," he said. Her eyes shot up, wide.

"How did you know?" she said. It was a very good question. "Does Uncle Ombric know? Seda? She _**must**_ know something — the look the three of you shared, of course!"

"Not many people can make that big of a mess. Besides, rats? Highly unlikely here in Santoff Claussen. Moscow or Saint Petersburg, maybe, but not here. You'd have to be an idiot to believe that."

She smiled shyly up at him. He returned it.

"So, what happened?"

"The Boogeyman came," she said, surprised that she could speak about it, "and he wanted my doll. He said he needed to find someone… Someone had been taken from him. Do you know what he meant by that?"

"No, and… and don't you worry about it. Just… just get some more sleep. He'll protect you. He's a brave little soldier."

She smiled as he kissed her cheeks and the top of her head. She settled in under the covers, drawing the doll close to her and watched as Nicholas took the candle and left the room. For the first time in a while, she felt genuinely relaxed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont'd: Okay, the dream part with the "Indian heathens" comment does not refer to actual Indians from India or America. The woman meant Islamic. There were, undoubtedly, tons of ignorant people in the royal court at this time and I kind of wanted to portray that. Did that come across?
> 
> I sort of alluded to the Chechen-Russian conflict that started in 1785, but I don't think it was enough that people who didn't know about it would pick up on it. There was war… Yeah, I don't think y'all know. I barely know much about it but from what my old high school notes told me.
> 
> Catherine the Great was ruling as Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias as that time. She was very into the Western world and imbued a lot of Western culture into Russia during this time.
> 
> I don't consider myself a history buff, but I do like learning about things from time to time. And I needed to fact check the fashions… which lead me to researching some different things… Ultimately, this chapter is just me being me and showing off my awesome knowledge in very subtle ways.
> 
> I keep on forgetting to post this, but Kisa and Katinka. Kisa is a pet name; it means "kitten." I actually got this idea from my mom — her name's Katherine and my dad calls her "kitty." It's pretty adorable. Katinka is a variation of Katherine in several countries. Generally boys girls are given different variations if there is more than one of the same name. My other choice was "Katya."
> 
> So, yes, Nicholas knows. He always knows. He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake…
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> The Nutcracker and the Mouse King was the first tale to praise nutcrackers. Since then, writers, poets, composers, and artists have followed E. T. A. Hoffmann and continued with his legacy.


	7. IN WHICH THE PEN KNIFE IS MIGHTER THAN THE SHADOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Katherine fights once more with a fire poker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: Sorry about the delay between the posts. I wasn't feeling well for quite a while and then I had the flu. I was out of it for New Years Eve — when I wanted to get this up. Health is important, and I needed to rest after the busy Christmas. Hope the holidays were good to everyone, and you weren't hacking your lungs out like I was.
> 
> The day I wrote the last scene to this chapter, I had a bad dream. To cut the story short I would be the one to survive a horror movie. Good to know I have that in me.
> 
> This chapter had a different ending, which was completely ridiculous and I knew had to be rewritten as I was writing it. I like this ending better.
> 
> Anyway, I'll be changing this to a crossover when I post the next chapter — it'll be RotG and GoC. I've decided to mix the two worlds.
> 
> I'll get to responding to people possibly tomorrow. I have to beta a chapter for someone and get that up later tonight.

Katherine spent the better part of the next day relaxing in the drawing room with the guests that were still there. For the most part, she knit a white shawl. Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola knitted a pair of slippers — which she gave Katherine once she embroidered stars onto the tongues. She wore them instead of the satin slippers she put on that afternoon.

The drawing room was still decorated — though not to the same splendor it had been on Christmas Eve and was far less crowded with all of the children gone. It was lonely, she decided, as the youngest member of their current party.

With the shawl done and draped about her shoulders — something she thought made her look rather like a heroine in a novella — she rested against the back of a couch and watched the world proceed around her. Evening tea was being served and there was talks of the goings on in court.

"…still missing," said a cousin.

"Oh, yes," his wife said. "I heard from a friend of mine that the Emperor is absolutely furious. What kind of man up and leaves his position as royal prince? Especially since he's next in line."

"Rather irresponsible," Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola said, clucking her tongue.

"I agree," said a second cousin.

"No, I meant the gossiping. Rather irresponsible to talk of such matters during the holidays. This is supposed to be a time for us all to relax and enjoy one another's company. And in front of young Katinka, too."

The cousins looked behind them, noticing Katherine for the first time. She shrugged.

"I hadn't heard any of this," she said, kneeling on the cushions to face them properly. "Who's missing?"

"The prince, Máni Pavlovich Lunanoff," said the cousin's wife. Katherine noticed that she was gravid and heavily so. "He was a good child, from what I remember of him from court — his brother, our Emperor, was the troublemaker — but as he got older… well… He's something of a wild spirit now. Something happened between him and the Emperor shortly before he disappeared."

"Still," the cousin with the _a la Titus_ styled hair said, "I believe that our prince is in the right."

"How so?"

"He and his brother didn't have a disagreement, Elena, but something else came up and is causing a small rift between the two of them."

"Yes, yes, Napoleon," Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola said, scoffing. She brushed off the comment with a wave of a gloved hand.

"Oh, no. See I did some research before I came here, after hearing a snippet of gossip. There was a general, some years back, who lost his family. Or so the report says. There were details that were kept hidden."

"Our you claiming our Emperor may have had a hand in their murders?" the cousin's wife said, gaping.

"Hm, oh no. The Emperor was innocent — as was his grandmother who ruled during that time. There were other politics at play."

"That is enough, Masha," Great-Great Grandaunt Nicola said. "No more of your scandalous rumors tonight. And, really, dear, it's quite irresponsible of you. There's plenty enough of such foolishness outside the house we don't need to drag it in here."

Katherine sat back on her legs, resting her head and arms on the back of the couch. Hadn't her dream mentioned a general who lost his family?

* * *

Her eyes snapped open in the darkness. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, it registered to her that it was a little after midnight. How she knew, she wasn't quite sure but something told her in her mind that midnight was important. And her instincts told her that something about this particular midnight was wrong.

She shrugged it off as the remnants of a bad dream and settled back into the blankets. She hugged her doll — who she decided would remain a constant companion as she slept — closer to her. She sighed and felt better. She felt better, that is, until something brushed up along her legs.

Katherine leapt out of her bed, tumbling onto the floor. She gaped around, trying to adjust to the darkness. There was a shadowy figure standing up on her mattress, the sheets and blankets slipping away. It was a lopsided looking pirate — missing an arm and a leg, and wearing a bicorn. It tilted its head to the side, making a clicking sound, its eyes locked onto her. A smile widened across its face.

She scrambled to the door and another pirate formed in front of her, blocking her way. It held out a zig-zagging sword, tip pointed directly at her abdomen. Something told her that one thrust would kill her. She back away and bumped into another one. There were three more behind it. Where had they all come from?

She was at least a head taller than all of them, but they still sent her heart thumping erratically in her chest. She wished that she had thought to light a candle or a gas lamp before she fell asleep.

They all made clicking sounds at her — the type of sound, Katherine supposed, bones made when they struck one another. One started, then another picked up where it left off. Then a third and fourth, and finally they all joined together in a monstrous cacophony.

Katherine slumped to the floor, clapping her hands over her ears and shutting her eyes. The insistent clicking penetrated her mind, overwhelming her other senses. She let out a pitiful whine — or thought she did by the vibration of her vocal chords and the soreness that settled in afterwards. She prayed that they would stop.

And all at once, they did. A heavy, sudden silence settled over her. She opened her eyes and unfolded herself from the fetal position she had unwittingly twisted herself into. She turned around to see what they were aptly watching behind her, and she gasped. There, on her bed, was the man from the other night — the Boogeyman. He was reaching down at something.

"Stop," she said, not quite sure what was possessing her as she got to her feet. The Boogeyman looked up at her, frowning. His arm was still stretched down to… Her doll, she realized, was still on her bed. He hadn't fallen out with her.

The Boogeyman turned away from her and reached further for the doll. When his fingertips brushed it, he jerked his hand back — as if he had been scalded. He glowered at her.

"What did you do to him?" he said, snarling.

"Nothing," she said. It was the honest truth. She hadn't done anything to the doll. Nothing, at least, that she was aware of.

He snatched up her wrist and examined her left hand, turning it over from palm to back multiple times. His grips was tight and the feel of his skin against hers was an odd sensation she couldn't quite put to proper words. Hot and cold, hard and soft, tangible and ghostly — all at once!

She tried to jerk her hand away but to no avail. He only held on tighter. When he found what he was looking for, he met her reproachful gaze.

"Magic," he said. "How do _**you**_ know _**magic**_?"

"I don't," she said. "I'm not some… some… some… _**witch**_. I don't cast evil spells on people and curse them. And I most certainly made no deal with the devil."

"That is _**dark**_ magic, girl — my domain. You, you cast light magic. Very different."

"But I don't know _**any**_ magic."

He looked her over once, twice — his frown deepening with each passing moment. She tried once more to jerk her wrist out of his grasp, and she managed. She was sent tumbling backwards and nearly rolled heels over head.

"You don't know of the power you weild," he said, mostly to himself. "How interesting. Perhaps you would be more useful than that useless doll."

He reached down to grab the front of her nightdress. She shrank and snapped her eyes shut, wishing she had something to defend herself with. She wait a beat, then two, for the hand to grab her, but it never came.

She cracked open her eyes on-by-one and blinked. Standing in front of her was her doll — larger like he had been during the Battle of the Drawing Room, as she decided to call it. He was glowing and… he had a weapon, poised to strike the Boogeyman.

Katherine got to her feet and stood close to her doll. He protected her once — sort of — so why would he not try again? She found it funny that she had such faith in a _**doll**_ , of all things — a doll, she noted, that was a Christmas present from a man she considered her older brother. Funny how life went, sometimes…

"So, you finally awakened to save your little damsel in distress," the Boogeyman said.

"I'm hardly in distress," she said. Her doll looked back at her, arching a brow — _how on_ **earth** _could he do that_! Dolls' faces were _**not**_ supposed to do that. It was impossible. Then again, a lot of impossible things were happening — for example, the Boogeyman standing in her room.

"Enough talk, tell me, loyal guard to His Royal Highness, where is your little prince?"

Her doll didn't say anything, instead, he charged. Katherine looked about, something to fight with — the shadow pirates still hung around, and they were quick things. They encircled her in seconds.

One jabbed his sword at her. She ducked and grabbed one of her pillows that had fallen with her. She whacked the pirate with the pillow, sending him toppling over into another one.

She grabbed its sword and pointed it at the other shadow pirates. They looked back and forth between her and their companion, unhappily. The pirate she knocked aside got back to its feet and snapped its fingers. The sword was back in its hand. Oh, lovely.

_**Now**_ , she was in distress.

Katherine dashed toward the fireplace, making it there before they could catch her and held the poker aloft. They backed away, hissing and clicking to one another and her. She was quite positive they were cursing her.

She jabbed the poker at one of the pirates, piercing its chest like it was made of air. It let out a bone chilling shriek and dissolved into nothingness. The others clicked at one another and dissolved as well. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

The Boogeyman and her doll were trails of swirling shadows and flickers of light. Something struck her mind — the Boogeyman lived in the shadows, only coming out at night, which meant she could defeat him with…

"I need light," she said. She looked around and spotted the gas lamps on her walls. She smiled and grabbed a chair, twisting the little knob that controlled the gas flow. Somewhere in her rushing about, she dropped her poker.

She got four burning bright when the Boogeyman unleashed a wall of… _**something**_ at her. The glass of the lamps shattered and rained down over her head — or they would have if her doll hadn't sheltered her. He frowned down at her, though there was a little glimmer of pride in his eyes.

"Not too clever, are you?" the Boogeyman said.

"More clever than you would ever give me credit for," she said, looking through her doll's arms and around him to find the blasted poker. Where had it gotten to?

"Whatever enchantment you placed over the doll, take it off."

"Why? So you can find the prince? Why would I give up the best kept secret in all of the Russias?"

"Best kept secret? My dear, there are more secrets hidden in this household than you can comprehend."

Her doll positioned himself in front of her, facing the Boogeyman. His back pressed her firmly into the wall uncomfortably. He had picked up her poker and held it back to her.

"Protect yourself," he said in a voice so incredibly soft she was quite sure she hadn't heard it at all. Still, she took it from him, gripping the wrought iron tightly in her fists. She noticed that the hand he had held it with was gripped tightly into a fist and trembling.

The three of them waited several moments for someone else to make a move — no one did. Katherine was starting to feel cramped and a tad claustrophobic. Her tight grip on the poker was starting to loosen as pain started to jolt up her fingers and hand. She tried not to show any wincing on her face and bit her tongue to fend off any whimper, but she knew she would have to switch hands soon.

She caught the Boogeyman shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as did her doll. She took that moment to trade the poker to her other hand, brushing it against her doll's thigh. He cried out, surprising the both of them. The Boogeyman took advantage of the distraction and charged.

She pushed the both of them down — her doll's weapon shooting from his hand and out of the way. As he scrambled for it, the Boogeyman crashed into the wall above her. Instead of ducking, as her instincts told her, she thrust the poker up.

"Not falling for that twice," he said, sneering down at her. He knocked her hand, making her drop the poker and grabbed a fistful of her hair and tossed her away from her weapon of choice.

She stumbled into her desk, hitting her hipbone on the corner. She winced and tenderly rubbed the spot. She jumped hearing the sounds of metal meeting metal — her doll with his dagger and the Boogeyman with a… scythe? She shuddered at the thought of what he could do with that.

They needed something to turn the tide into their favor but what? She looked down at her desk and thought about its contents — paper, ink wells, and quill pens mostly. But in the topmost left drawer was a silver pen knife.

She withdrew it as quietly as she could from the drawer, keeping a close eye on the battle in her room. The Boogeyman was pushing her doll back toward her bed — which lay in a disarray of exploded pillows, twisted sheets, and discarded quilts.

Katherine wasted no time in gathering her courage and meeting them just as they reached her mattress. She gave a little cry and plunged her pen knife into one of the Boogeyman's arms, dragging in down at a jagged angle.

She was pushed down to the ground, the midnight intruder towering over her with a ferocious frown. She scooted back and away from him, eyes locked on the pen knife that he drew out of him arm and dropped to the ground — an inky black sludge of what was his blood would surely stain the pretty rug Nicholas had brought her back from the Orient.

"This isn't over," he said, drawing her attention. She watched, wide-eyed as he vanished as his pirates had, dissolving into the air.

She sat still for several seconds before the muscles holding her up gave out and she collapsed onto her back. Her breathing was labored, and her heart thumped erratically in her ears. She closed her eyes and willed her body to center itself again.

When she could breathe normally, she sat back up and looked around for her doll. He was collapsed on her bed and smiling. When he saw her, his smile widened and she felt her cheeks draw up into a grin just as wide.

Katherine lied down next to him and felt the strain of everything melt away. Her eyelids felt heavy and she started to doze off.

"Don't sleep yet," a voice said — her doll, she presumed, as he was the only one in the room with her, "we have to go."

"Go?" she said, opening her eyes and sitting up. Her head started to ache. "Go where?"

He shook his head and got to his feet, stumbling and clutching his abdomen. He looked back at her, frightened and in pain. She rushed to his side and drew his arm around her shoulder, supporting some of his weight.

"We need to get you back to the bed," she said.

He shook his head again and pointed toward her door with his dagger. She started to protest, but he moved forwards. She had no choice but to help him arrive at his destination.

They slipped through her bedroom door, along the hall, down the stairs, and to the drawing room without being seen or heard — Katherine was quite surprised that no one had heard the noises and come running to see what trouble she was in. She set him down on one of the couches and allowed him to steady his breathing.

"Do you know where we are?" she said. He nodded. "Good. Do you think you can stay here for a few moments? I don't have anything on my feet and the room is cold."

He gave her a questioning look, to which she shrugged and earned a smile. He waved her off and nodded to the doors. She brushed the hair out of his face and pecked his forehead — drawing back, mortified, when she realized what she had done. What had possessed her to do that?

She tucked her head, abashed, and ran out of the drawing room to retrieve some footwear. She found the knitted slippers under her blankets surrounding her bed and paused at the door when she saw her shawl. Shrugging, she gathered it in her arms and headed back downstairs.

Her doll was still waiting for her, looking much better than he had in her room. He was still holding his stomach, unfortunately. She draped her shawl over his shoulders and helped him back to his feet.

"Where do you need to go?" she said.

He pointed to the fireplace.

"But won't you burn up?"

He shook his head, no.

"Alright, if you say so."

They walked slowly to the fireplace, and he tapped out a rhythm on the mantle piece. The fire sputtered out and the firebox widened and grew. The brick back of the fireplace gritted upward and opened to reveal a dark tunnel.

"In there?" Katherine said, looking back between him and the change in the familiar room. He nodded and started toward the tunnel, pulling her along. She gulped and stepped over the hearth and into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont'd: So, that was fun. That ending — as said at the top — was part of the rewrite. The original ending had North dropping in and breaking up the fight, escorting Katherine and her doll down to the drawing room, and Ombric sending them off to… the next part of this fic. It was all about 500 words or so and terribly written — as it was actually done at one or two in the morning.
> 
> I'm deviating from the ballet at the moment, but I'll bring that all back up closer to the end of the fic. Kind of doing The Nutcracker Prince thing at the moment. Great movie, by the way, grew up watching that and The Care Bears Nutcracker Suite. I owned both when I was younger, but… yeah, they went bye-bye. That's my life for you.
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> In Hoffman's tale, Drosslemeier and his nephew (the Nutcracker) were from Nuremberg. Why Nuremberg? The town is known for making the world's best gingerbread.


	8. IN WHICH IT IS VERY COLD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine and Nightlight awaken in a strange world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took over a week to write — remember that long break between chapters 3 and 4, and 5 and 6? These next few chapters were what was taking so long. I like to stay several chapters ahead of posting, and I wanted to plan out some other important things that will happen.
> 
> So, the ending to this chapter wasn't what I originally had in mind, but it is as close as I could form into words. I hope you enjoy it, a very awesome character makes his first appearance.
> 
> I don't remember if I've said anything in the past, but thank you for all the kudos! You have no idea how happy it makes me to see them pop up in my inbox. Gingerbread cookies for you all!

It was cold.

That was the first sensation to wash over Katherine when she first woke up. It was cold, but her right hand was warm. She did not question the warmth of her fingers when her body was otherwise numb, but she was aware that something was wrong about the situation.

As her mind came about, and she thought of the epic battle in her bedroom she prayed it was not a dream — that it was like the Christmas battle and very real, no matter how frightening.

There was another part of her that really hoped it was really all in her head, and that everything that happened was the result of food poisoning the night before Christmas Eve. Adventures were best left to Nicholas and the books she adored. But it was a small part, and she was thankful for that.

When she did manage to open her eyes, it hurt. All around her was white — swirling and whirling snow that bit viciously at her exposed skin. Snow flakes danced menacing patterns above her head. Ice clung to her lashes and the skin of her eyelid — shattering and poking at the delicate epidermis as she blinked.

Where was she?

She looked around, trying to spot something familiar. There was nothing but a young man staring at her and holding her hand. Their fingers were laced together and trembling.

Her doll.

She shook off his hand and got them both in an upright position. She dug out her shawl and shook off the snow, draping it about his slender shoulders once more. She looped her arms around his narrow waist — which couldn't have been bigger than hers. Together they got to their feet.

"Where are we?" Katherine said, shouting over the wind. He shook his head. He didn't know.

"Shelter," he said, looking around. He pointed in one direction, one she hoped would lead to sanctuary from the wind and cold.

They stumbled along, clinging together as a crutch and for warmth. A few times, one of them lost their footing and dragged the other down into the snow. After what felt like hours a dark sharp took form in all the white. Katherine nearly cried out in relief when she realized what it was.

It was a shack — simply built and looked a little worse for wear, but to relieve them of the wind and cold it would do. They released their grip on each other and scrambled the rest of the way to the door.

They had to dig out a path so they could open the door, and after they got in they had to re-clear the door's path. When they were shut in, Katherine sunk down to the floor. She allowed herself to shiver violently, teeth clattering together. She was tired — her head felt foggy and weighted, her eyelids wouldn't stay open, the floor seemed very comfortable…

"Don't sleep," her doll said. He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. "You can't sleep. You'll die. _**Please**_ open your eyes. Katherine, you have to open your eyes."

Him saying her name struck a chord in her mind. How did he know it?

"My name," she said, her eyes agreeing with her piqued curiosity. "My name, you know it. How?"

He stayed silent, dropping her shawl onto the dusty top of a table — sending a spray of dust into the air. She wrinkled her nose and frowned. She watched as he searched the shack for… something. He opened a door and he brightened — quite literally. He actually grew brighter, the light he naturally emanated, so unusual and ethereal, enticed her. Had he always shone so brightly? Once, perhaps, in the drawing room…

Something was draped around her. A blanket, she realized. Her doll tucked her in a warm cocoon and sat opposite her. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and frowned, examining her features.

"What are you doing?" she said. He shook his head and gnawed at his lower lip. She took the time to really examine his face — return the favor, of sorts.

He looked elfish, made of light and mist and something tangible. His face was as round as the moon, friendly and sincere. Not much had changed, really, from when she could hold him in a single arm. He was just taller and more human-like now — though, she had to admit, the hat he wore looked a little ridiculous than when he had simply been a toy. She kind of missed the old him.

They were odd companions, she thought. He a doll who could express every emotion that passed through his mind but still made of wood, and she a mere human girl who was very far from home — something in the pit of her stomach told her that. Together they were searching. For what, though, was the question that plagued her. Where they supposed to find someone — the prince, Konstantin, the Emperor? Or were they, together, an army that was to fight the Boogeyman?

Outside, the wind howled viciously — she could hear it whistling through the cracks and holes in the shack. Snow exploded in loud clumps on the sides, an ever insistent pounding. The air was quite cold, even beneath the blanket her doll had retrieved. She could see her breath, even in the dark, come out in silver puffs. She would have felt quite alone in the world had it not been for her doll, his glow a comforting reminder.

She was tired but not the same as before. The sleep that had tried to overtake her not moments ago had been seductive and offering a relief from the cold. The sleep calling to her now was one of exhaustion.

"Tired," she said, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Please don't go to sleep on me. I've seen too many people die that way."

"Where? When? Please, tell me."

"Training, war… It's not good. Please, Katherine, stay awake. Talk to me."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His brows were creased — a strange look on wood — and he was frowning. So _**expressive**_ for a toy — or had he ever really been a toy? No, he wasn't. As Nicholas told her, he was a soldier, guardian to the prince of Russia. It felt odd, knowing that. Was it her job to free him from whatever kept him as a doll? Well, she had read enough stories to know that, yes, it was.

"What's your name?" she said. "It's been bugging me for a while, since I've," _**owned you**_. "Since I've known you. What do I call you? All you've ever been in my head is 'my doll'."

He tilted his head to the side as her cheeks flushed. Claiming ownership of another sentient being left a terrible feeling in her stomach. It was wrong in so many ways. But the possessive noun, when applied to him, felt more… _ **awkward**_ than wrong. Perhaps it was because he still looked like a toy. Yes, that was it.

"Your doll?" he said. For the first time, she saw his lips move. And she could only think of how splendid he looked when he spoke and how fine of a voice he had — like long forgotten happy memories resurfacing once more.

"Y-yes," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles in the blanket. "Sorry about that, but I really don't have anything else to call you."

"I don't really mind. You've been a splendid caretaker."

"Have I?"

"Oh, yes. Better than the two Tall Ones. The first kept me in a cabinet for safekeeping, and the second put me in a box! Do you know how hard it is to breathe in a box?"

"Tall Ones?"

"Yes, Tall Ones."

"Oh! You mean 'adults'."

"If that's what they are, yes. I much prefer you to them, you cherished me — like a friend."

"I hardly think I'm good at taking care of anything," she said, pulling her knees to her chest. She rested her head on them and tugged the blanket closer. Katherine felt more awake as they talked, something she was quite grateful for, but she was only human and she needed a few good hours of sleep.

"We should explore," her doll said. He offered her his hands, and she took them. He hoisted her up to her feet very easily. She readjusted the blanket, stifling a yawn with a covered hand.

_Oh well._

The shack had only three rooms and a cupboard. The first room was the main room, serving as a gathering place for the household and the kitchen. Had there been less dust, she would have found it quaint. The next room was a bedroom with a rather large bed — the master bedroom, Katherine decided. The last room was difficult to enter and as soon as they unhinged the door, they saw why.

"Oh," Katherine said, sidling in past her doll. She released her grip on the blanket, letting it fall to the floor. The cold was the most intense in this particular room, but she did not feel it. Her attention was drawn to the black mass in the middle of the room.

The mass was made of ice, she was quite sure, and it glittered by grains of something beneath the surface. It exploded out the side of the shack — something neither she or her doll had noticed during the storm.

"I wonder what happened," she said, reaching toward it.

"Don't touch it," her doll said, pulling her back before she could touch it. He pulled her close, holding her waist tightly.

Something inside the mass caught her eye. She shook him off and tiptoed closer.

"There's something in there. There's… there's a _**person**_ in there! We need to get them out."

She looked around the shack for something to break the ice. The only thing she could find that would do any damage was her doll's diamond tipped dagger. She pulled it from the holster at his hips and stabbed down at the ice before he could react. The blade bounced off and flew out of her grasp, burying itself in a wall. She looked at the dagger, her doll, and the black mass, sheepishly.

"Oops."

Her doll glared at her and retrieved his weapon, shaking his head. She swore she heard him muttering under his breath. He re-holstered the dagger and stood by her.

"What do we do?" she said. "We can't just leave them there? It's a terrible fate."

She reached down, brushing her fingertips on the darkened surface. The ice beneath her fingers splintered. The cracks quickly spread up, and the mass tumbled apart. Large chunks dropped out into the blizzard beyond the shack, landing with thunderous crashes in the snow and sending a spray of white back up into the air.

Katherine allowed herself to be pulled out of the room and to the kitchen. She and her doll ducked under the table, the blanket over their heads. They waited until the roars died down, and they were sure that it was safe.

They returned to the room, part of the wall was blown apart completely. Outside, the dark grains were being blown away into the wind, mixing with the snow and gone forever. Left in the middle of where the mass had once been was a young man, a little older than Katherine, by the looks of him. Wind swirled with snow and blowing delicate sheets of paper around the room, dusting molding toys and chunks of furniture.

She picked her way through the room to the young man's side — highly aware of her doll right behind her. She kneeled at his side and examined him. He seemed unharmed, if extraordinarily pale.

"How long do you think he was in there?" she said.

"Hard to say," her doll said, tugging at the young man's hair — it was brilliantly white, the exact same shade as freshly fallen snow. She slapped his hand away, frowning.

"Help me carry him to the bedroom." She looped her arms under the young man's shoulders. He frowned but complied, taking the young man's feet. They shuffled out and to the master bedroom very easily. The strange young man was set down on the bed and an extra blanket was retrieved.

Together, they waited to see any signs of life. It would be several hours before that came.

* * *

Katherine had dozed off at some time — she wasn't quite sure when, but her doll had let her sleep quite peacefully on the bed, draping the blanket he retrieved from the decimated room over her prone form — and was awakened by screaming. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What…?" she started to say, looking around.

"Lenore!" There was a crash to her right. It was the young man who had been in the black mass. He was looking around frantically for someone. His eyes caught hers — they were brilliantly blue — and they were afraid.

"Where's my sister?" he said. He scrambled over to her, grasping her upper arms and shaking her. His grip was tight. "Where is she? What did you do to her?"

A blue-silver blade was pointed at the young man's throat. He let go of her and backed away, hands up. Katherine looked behind her and saw her doll. He crouched down and curled protectively around her. His free arm circled around her waist once more.

"It's okay," she said, awkwardly angling her hand to pat her doll's shoulder. "He didn't try to hurt me. He's just looking for someone — his sister."

"Yeah," the young man said, looking between them. Katherine pulled away from her doll's grasp, though he did not move. "I just… I want to see my sister. Do you know what happened to her?"

"Sorry, no. When we got here, you were trapped in some black… thing."

His face scrunched up in confusion as he thought. Katherine did not doubt to him having some sort of memory loss after his imprisonment. She often wanted to toss away books for using that trope, but there was always some truth in it.

"My name's Katherine," she said. "And this is… my doll."

The young man looked back and forth between them, eyebrows raised. He gulped and slowly, shakily, lowered his hands.

"I'm…" he said, scrunching his face again, "I'm… Jack. I'm Jack."

"Hello, Jack."

"What are you doing in my family's house?"

"There's a blizzard outside."

"Blizzard?" Jack said. "What blizzard? It's as peaceful as June out there."

Katherine looked at the dirty window and blinked. There was sunlight filtering in. As she listened, there was no wind — in fact, she was sure she heard birds chirping outside.

She looked at her doll, and they both scrambled outside. The sun was warming up the world, the snow starting to melt. There were birds chirping, but the forest did not spring back to life as she expected. It all seemed as miserable and dreary as the world was back home.

"I guess we can continue," she said to no one in particular.

"Continue where?" Jack said, joining the pair outside. They turned to look at him. Katherine looked at her doll, wondering if she should say. He spoke first.

"To defeat the Boogeyman," he said, "and restore my prince."

"Sounds like fun. Mind if I join you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont'd: Tah-dah!
> 
> So, Jack has made an appearance, and I've named his sister Lenore. If anyone can guess why, you'll get a virtual cookie.
> 
> I've been meaning to ask, do you guys like my fun facts? Should I keep posting them?
> 
> NUTCRACK FUN FACT  
> Tchaikovsky was the first Russian composer to feature the _celesta_ in any musical composition. He fell in love with it when he was in France. It is used for "The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy."


	9. IN WHICH THE KNIGHT GETS A NAME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doll gets a name and there is trespassing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: This chapter was horrible to write. I got stuck on the very first page of writing. It took nearly two weeks and a bit of alcohol to get done — once I got over the flu. Cold medicine and hard apple cider isn't a good combination for anyone… But that was a while back, and I feel back for the long break in between posting these.
> 
> This is one of the shortest chapters, simply because things weren't moving and I needed to get somewhere by the end of it. Like I said, a struggle. There should be shorter breaks between chapters after this one.

Jack proved to be a most useful companion. He helped them navigate the forest beyond the shack quite easily — helping them to avoid the worst areas. As they walked, Katherine and Jack talked.

"This is the Land of Cockaigne," Jack said, gesturing to the world around them with a large staff he picked up from the ground. "Sorry that it's like this. It's not normally this… drippy dreary."

"It feels like Spring," Katherine said, adjusting her dried shawl about her shoulders — it was a bit stiff. She squinted up at the sun, well where the sun should have been. It was tightly hidden behind some fiercely gray clouds. "Looks like early Spring — somewhere between rain and snow."

"Slush."

"What?"

"That's what I call it, slush. Rain and snow — it's all… slushy when you walk through it."

"I think people call it sleet."

"Well," Jack said, shrugging, "I call it slush."

"We need to keep moving," her doll said, looking around. It looked as if he was straining to hear something. Katherine closed her eyes and listened — not picking up anything out of the ordinary.

"So, where are we going again?" Katherine said, allowing her doll to help her over a felled log. The dead moss slick against the bark.

"To see the Phooka," Jack said.

"Who is the Phooka?"

"The Phooka are a race of giant rabbit-kangaroos."

"Are they nice?" she said.

"They can be. I don't really know, to be honest."

"We're going to see a race of creatures you don't even know?" her doll said, scowling.

"You know, we need a name for you," Jack said, turning to face their usually silent companion. "How about James or Derek or William?"

"I know far too many Williams," Katherine said. "I don't want another one."

"Eh, William's not a great name anyway. Oh, how about Phillip?"

"I _**do**_ have a name, you know," her doll said.

"Then, what is it?"

He opened up his mouth to speak and it looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Katherine patted his shoulder.

"That's alright," she said. "We'll just call you Nightlight."

"Nightlight?" Jack said, screwing up his face. "That's a —"

"I like it," her doll said, a smile brightening his face. "Nightlight."

Katherine beamed, a warm feeling blossoming in her stomach and spreading to the top of her head and down to her toes — she wiggled them inside the knitted slippers. She rather liked the name Nightlight and was elated that he, too, shared the sentiment. Jack, on the other hand, was another story.

"You know, you're going to regret being called that," Jack said, wagging a finger at her doll — _**Nightlight**_ , she corrected. But he didn't seem to mind, in fact he shone a little brighter.

Jack sighed and tossed his hands in the air, signaling his defeat. Katherine and Nightlight laughed.

* * *

They made camp in a small, sheltered area beneath some rather aromatic pine trees later that evening. A gentle breeze swept through from time to time, warm and promising spring. Katherine relished in the thought of the change in season. While she loved the winters and the snow, something about the rebirth of the world felt… promising and hopeful.

She closed her eyes and titled back her head, letting the breeze caress her cheeks and nose. She opened her eyes and, through the branches of the pine tree, she caught sight of the stars. They were different from the ones she knew.

"I've been gone for a whole day," she said, mostly to herself but Jack and Nightlight overheard her.

"What?" Jack said. She straightened her head to look at him, a frown furrowing her features.

"I've been gone a whole day from home. Do you think anyone is missing me?" She aimed the last part to Nightlight. He shrugged and went back to poking the fire with a stick he had picked up from off the ground. He didn't wholly interested in the idea of being gone too long. Perhaps time ran differently in this world — if it was another world.

_Well,_ she reasoned with herself, _what else could it be but another world? We did travel here using magic._

She tried not to cluck her tongue at the thought of that. Magic wasn't… She didn't approve of the use of it. And neither did her Uncle Ombric. He spoke against the use of it on many occasions. She shrugged off the thought and turned her attention back to her two companions — who were bickering over whether or not to add another log to the fire.

She smiled at them. Between them and the hum of the forest, she felt her mind slowly start to drift off. She leaned back against a tree and sighed. Her head felt heavy, and her body felt light. She was tired — completely worn out, if she was to tell the truth.

Katherine was just about to fall sound asleep when she jerked awake. Her arms and legs flailed for a second, before settling down. She was having difficulty breathing. What…?

Something was pressed firmly against her neck. She looked down and saw a colorfully painted "L" shaped piece of wood. She had seen such things in one of the books Nicholas brought back for her. She didn't remember what the thing was called, but she knew it was a weapon.

Her eyes flickered over to Jack and Nightlight. Both looked positively startled, weapons drawn. There was anger in Nightlight's eyes and recognition in Jack's.

"I hope that you are aware," said the person holding the weapon to her throat, "that you are trespassing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont'd: In case anyone was wondering, there's something of a funny joke about the last chapter. As with the ballet and other adaptations, the heroine and the nutcracker ventured into the Land of Sweets (Cockaigne in this fic). Katherine and Nightlight entered this world in the last chapter — chapter eight or (here I will make a pun for all of you to snicker at) chapter ate. Ahahahaha… yeah… I'm easily amused.
> 
> Anyway, Cockaigne (also spelled Cokaygne) is actually a piece of medieval folklore. It was a land of plenty where the hardships of peasantry did not exist and it rained cheeses. It was a land of idleness and gluttony — really, my kind of place. Except the cheese thing. I could live without that. That's a little bit of fun for all of you.
> 
> Also, I'm not writing accents. I'm terrible at that, that and… yeah. Not going to give too much away at the moment. Just thought I'd let you know.
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> It takes over 130 steps to make a proper nutcracker doll.


	10. IN WHICH THERE ARE TOO MANY EGGS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff: So, I got a better paying job (YAY!), but because I'm still in training I don't have consistent hours yet (BOO!). My training should end sometime next week, and I'll know my schedule. But, yay, money!
> 
> My computer battery was acting wonky and even though my laptop said it was fully charged, my computer kept turning off while I was writing — at least for the first hour. Talk about frustrating. It's all better now. Found out my battery wasn't hooked up properly.
> 
> Sorry that this took a while to get up. I meant to have it posted on Monday, but life got in the way. (Or in other words, I completely blanked on everything that I wanted to do and spent all my time on tumblr and Netflix. I'm terrible, I know.)
> 
> Now, back to the story!

"I hope that you are aware," said the person holding the weapon to her throat, "that you are trespassing."

"Are you a Phooka?" Jack said, tilting his head to one side. Katherine's captor tightened his grip on her for an instant before relaxing.

"Depends," he said, "on who's looking for me."

"Jack Frost, Lady Katherine —"

"I'm not a lady," Katherine said, huffed. Jack continued on, as if he hadn't heard her.

"—and her guard, Nightlight. We traveled most of the day to see you and your people."

"There's only me." Her captor released her, lightly nudging her towards the others. Katherine peeked behind and saw a rather large rabbit. His fur was blue-gray — almost purpling in hue — and navy in patterns reminiscent to the ones painted on his weapon. He also had many arms, making him look like a freaking spider. She wondered if all Phooka had six arms. Despite this, he wasn't very intimidating, as one might suppose. There was something… _**gentle**_ about him.

"What do you mean only you?" she said. The Phooka turned his eyes to her. She couldn't discern the color behind the colored lenses but they eyes were intelligent and kind.

"There's only me. The rest of my kind died out long ago."

"That's sad. You must be awfully lonely."

His long ears and whiskers twitched, in annoyance or amusement she wasn't quite sure, but he relaxed as they chatted.

"I know what it's like," she said, "to be lonely. I live in a very big house on the edges of a small village. Most of the time my uncle is busy working and his apprentice, my brother, is off having adventures."

"That isn't quite the same," the Phooka said.

"Surely you have visitors?"

"Hardly. I'm perfectly content to be by myself."

Katherine frowned. What an _**odd**_ creature! There was no way he liked being by himself. No one liked to be alone for too long — even the most secluded hermits liked to join civilization from time to time. Intelligent creatures were social creatures, after all.

"Do you have a name?" she said, looking him over. Surely a creature as clever as him had a name. His left ear twitched.

"My name," he said coolly, "is E. Aster Bunnymund."

"What does the 'E' stand for?" Jack said. His right ear twitched.

"You said you traveled a day to see me?" the Phooka said, ignoring Jack's question.

"Yes," Katherine said. "You see, I'm not from this land — Nightlight brought us here through a door in the firebox of my uncle's drawing room after a battle in my bedroom with the Boogeyman. I don't remember what happened after that, but when we woke up we were outside in a snowstorm. We found a little cabin, and we found Jack frozen inside a large thing of ice. He suggested we find you because you might know something… _**Do**_ you know something?"

"The Boogeyman? Pitch? He's _**awake**_? But how…?"

"Pitch?" Nightlight said, trying the name on his tongue. He made a face when he mouthed it, as if saying it brought a disgusting taste to his tongue.

"Pitch Black," Bunnymund said, frowning. "A creature of darkness and nightmares. Rumor had it he made it over into another world. I guess the rumors are true, then. This… isn't good. It'd be best to follow me."

He turned and tapped his long foot on the ground, a hollow thumping reaching Katherine's ears. A hole appeared in the spot he tapped, and he hopped down.

Katherine looked to Nightlight and Jack, who shrugged. Nightlight scooped Katherine up and jumped down after the Phooka. Jack followed in suit. All that was left of their campsite was a smoking fire pit, blown out by a gust of wind — like a candle — and a little daisy that sprouted from when the hole had opened.

* * *

Katherine hated the movement of the tunnel. It was like being a rag doll tossed about in a terribly windy storm, unable to up from down and left from right. She was glad to have Nightlight to cling onto — though he wasn't much happier with their situation. He was something solid, and that solidity comforted her.

Behind them, somewhere further back, she could hear Jack's whoops of delight as he tumbled down after them. At least _**someone**_ was enjoying themselves.

The journey came to an abrupt halt. Nightlight's feet touched solid ground, sending them heels over head. His hold on her slipped, and she went flying. She was sure a shriek slipped out, but she was paying attention to where she might land. Thankfully, it was on a rather springy bed of moss.

She slowly sat up, her brain still doing circles in her head. Closing her eyes didn't help, it only made her lie back on the moss. The world above her head — a weirdly blue sky behind a beautifully leafy ceiling — tossed and churned as she waited for things to settle.

Jack and Nightlight weren't having it any easier, she heard them crash into one another on more than one occasion. Eventually, they all calmed down and the world stopped dancing.

She sat up and looked around. The strange place the Phooka had brought them reminded her of spring. How odd that such a place should exist underground — _**how**_ she knew it was underground, she wasn't sure, but something about the place seemed to tell her as much.

"Are you all steady enough to walk?" Bunnymund said, his left ear twitching.

"Yes," Katherine said, getting to her feet. Her knees didn't feel quite right beneath her, and she stumbled on more than one occasion. Nightlight offered her his arm, but she didn't take it. They followed Bunnymund and Jack, side by side.

"Seriously though, what does the 'e' in your name stand for?" Jack said, right behind the Phooka. He was practically stepping on Bunnymund's fluffy, white tail. Katherine bit back a laugh at the thought.

"It's none of your concern," Bunnymund said.

"Does it stand for Edmund? How about Eduardo? Esfahan?"

"Are you ever not an irritation?"

"Hm… no. Edgar? Edward? Escargot? Wait, that's snails…"

Jack continued to prattle off ridiculous names starting with 'e' — some of them she wasn't even aware were names until he said them. She supposed that he could have been making some of them up, but she wasn't quite sure how to judge them. And Bunnymund seemed to laugh at quite a few, with the way his whiskers twitched.

Their trek down the extraordinarily green path did not take long. Bunnymund stopped in front of a perfectly egg-shaped tunnel entrance. Stamped above the entrance was a few words written in an egg-shaped language. Two monoliths shaped like eggs with smiling faces towered over them.

"Oh," Jack said, "I think I know what your name is. Egbert!"

Bunnymund puffed out his cheeks, clearly flustered, and harrumphed.

"Let's," he said. "Let's just get inside."

**.x:X:x.**

The tunnel walls were smooth, Katherine noted, and the way was lit by little lights that were held aloft by golden arms. They gave off an eerie green light that cast strange shadows when she and the others walked past.

There were smaller tunnels branching off the main one — still egg-shaped and smooth, though the lighting was much more sparse which made them more intimidating. She wasn't sure where they led to, though she was certain that if she understood the language stamped above them she would know.

The tunnel opened up into a room that was, surprisingly, more circular than egg-shaped. The furniture, however, did not seem to avoid the overall theme. The room was inviting, more cozy with the warm yellows and summer greens and soft pastels. She felt more welcome there then anywhere else.

"Please," Bunnymund said, gesturing to a circle of couches and high-backed chairs, "take a seat. I shall be back in a moment."

Katherine sat down on one of the chairs, making herself quite comfortable in the nook of a wing and its high back. Jack and Nightlight were more cautious, examining everything before they too took spots on a nearby couch.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Nightlight said.

"Egbert _**did**_ say he was the last of his kind," Jack said, nodding. "Do you think he killed the others?"

"No," Katherine said. "We can trust him. I just know it."

And she did. There was a feeling, something in her stomach, that told her to trust E. Aster Bunnymund. He could help them with… whatever it was they were supposed to do — she still didn't quite know what that was yet, a rather infuriating thought. She had been taught to trust the gut instincts by Nicholas, so that was what she was going to do.

"Are you positive?" Jack said, cocking his brows.

"Quite positive," she said. "I feel it in my belly."

Jack and Nightlight shared a look. Neither of them believed her, but they were willing to trust her instincts over their own.

"What else is your belly telling you?" Nightlight said.

Katherine looked down at the slightly rounded gut, wrinkled and dimpled under the white nightclothes. She willed it to tell her something else, give her some other information — questions, answers, a quest, _**something**_.

It growled instead.

"It's time to eat," Bunnymund said, returning with a tray of cut up fruits in pretty bowls and steaming cups of a sweet smelling beverage. He set it down on the little egg-shaped coffee table in the middle of the circle. He passed out cups of hot chocolate — much to Katherine's delight — and the bowls of fruit.

Silence passed between them as they ate. Nightlight and Jack watched the Phooka carefully over the tops of their cups — Nightlight's still steaming and Jack's… not so much. Katherine watched them and waited for someone to speak. Finally deciding he'd had enough quiet, Bunnymund spoke.

"I believe you should tell me," he said, sipping his own cup, "how all of this started."

"Well," Katherine said, "it started the day my brother sent a letter to my uncle's mansion…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author stuff cont'd: The ending scene was supposed to be a LOT longer. Be glad I cut over 1k words out. Unbearable descriptions, needless conversation, lots of twitching… it just wasn't healthy.
> 
> Anyway, Egbert. That is what I believe Bunny's name to be Egbert Aster Bunnymund. And it doesn't sound terrible. *snorts* I have too much fun with that. Silly rabbit, eggs are for birds and reptiles. (Sort of.)
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT
> 
> Nutcrackers became very big in America in the 1950s after GIs saw them in Christmas Markets in Germany and brought them to the states. The Nutcracker ballet became very big thereafter and has become a tradition for companies to produce the ballet during Christmastime.

**Author's Note:**

> Author stuff cont’d: I started this back in December 2013. I watched different variations of the ballet and adaptations of the novella and ballet. I spent several days purging myself on the internet for all of the available material. It was horrible.
> 
> Most of this fic was written in between cups of peppermint tea and hot chocolate — and the one time I was a genius and combined the two. I hate washing mugs now, but the end result is so worth it. This fic? A wonderful addition to this fandom, I think.
> 
> NUTCRACKER FUN FACT  
> Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm were the first to define “nußknackers,” the nutcrackers we all know and love. They are defined as “often in the form of a misshaped little man, in whose mouth the nut, by means of a leaver or screw, is cracked open.”


End file.
